


Penpals

by Astrangefan



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, I hope you think it's funny, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, My First Fanfic, based on She Loves Me, based on You've Got Mail, for Jonsa Valentine's Day Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:28:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 22,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrangefan/pseuds/Astrangefan
Summary: Jon Snow and Sansa Stark work at a bookstore. It is known that they don't get along. Sansa is dipping her toe back in the relationship pool by engaging in a correspondence with a pen pal. If I say more, it will give it away.This story is loosely based on a 1937 play “Parfumerie” on which the movie The Shop Around the Corner, the Broadway musical She Loves Me, and the movie You’ve Got Mail are based. I’ve centered it around a bookstore, but it is not You’ve Got Mail-like; it’s just because I worked at Barnes & Noble for 7 years and I was always told you should write what you know.I hope you like it!
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 65
Kudos: 31
Collections: JonsaValentine2020





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except my bookstore experiences. Almost everything specific to working in a bookstore in this story happened when I was working at B&N 15 years ago.

**Introduction**

In an age of emails, texting and Snapchat, the idea of written correspondence has become an antiquated pastime employed by dowager aunts, queen mothers and writer who insist on using manual typewriters to craft their stories. There has, however, remained a small segment of society that stubbornly continues to engage in time-honored tradition of handwritten letters – penpals. They would rather die than use an Ipad or have a gmail account.

Because of this phenomenon, matchmaking services have sprung up throughout the country. All one has to do is send in an application and an administrator will match them up with another person and they begin a correspondence. Sort of like Tinder for the shy, Match.com for the introvert, eHarmony for the demisexual.

**Chapter 1: Opening**

It is 8:45 am. Only half the lights are on so as to discourage eager customers from trying to enter Reed and Wull Books & Gifts before 9:00. Staff are busy putting on the finishing touches for the day. Sam is stocking the dailies, Gilly is swapping out new magazines, Margaery is making the black tea in the café, Sansa is shelving the last chapter books and Jon is in the back stacking orders on a cart ready to be taken up front.

“Is everyone ready?” Sam is on the intercom. Hearing scattered confirmations, he unlocks the front door. He holds it open for the two elderly gentlemen who have been waiting outside for the last 20 minutes.

“Good morning Mr. Karstark, Mr. Royce. Papers are all ready for you.” Sam shows them to the cash registers where two dailies with post its on them are waiting. The two men shuffle over and make sure each one gets the right one and then start making their way over to the café.

“We’ll pay for them with our coffee, Sam.” It’s the routine every morning except Sundays. They each order a cup of the strongest black coffee, saying no to Margaery’s attempt to upsell them a scone. They sit at a table and start to read the headlines. Pretty soon they are in a healthy debate about the latest topics. They have been doing this as long as Sam has been working there, so at least 15 years.

After that people start coming in fits and spurts. It’s pretty quiet this time of year – no major holidays to gear up for, summer reading is over and there aren’t any events planned for another week or two. The store operates like a well-oiled machine. Most of the staff have been at this branch for a couple of years at least and they all get along pretty well, or stay out of each other’s way if they don’t.

“Gilly, did the new issue of Philosophy Today come in yet?” Sam is the armchair intellectual. If a customer shows the slightest interest in something he mentions, they better not plan on going anywhere soon. Sam could talk your ear off. The crazy thing is, he is so endearing that you end up listening even when you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Yes, it came this morning. But, Sam, there’s only two copies so don’t spill anything on it.” Gilly brings the magazine over to him with a threatening glare. He reaches for it but she pulls it back. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Sam reaches for it again and this time she gives it to him. “I’m so excited to read the cover story – it’s about why young people all claim to be having an existential crisis and….” He looks around to find Gilly is gone. “Where’d you go?”

“Some of us have work to do, you know? We can’t all have our coffee and hang out at the registers looking at magazines.” Gilly scoffs.

“If I help you, will you listen to me?” Puppy dog eyes do the trick. Gilly rolls her eyes and hands him the PDT. “Go work on the Home and Garden section – it’s a mess.”

While Gilly works and Sam teaches, er, talks, Sansa is in the children’s department trying to keep a couple of 6-year-olds from climbing all over the little kids table. Why do parents think I’m a babysitter? She grouses. They are probably hiding in one of the overstuffed chairs with a graphic novel pretending they have no idea their perfect children are wreaking havoc.

“Excuse me? Have you read this book?” A woman who doesn’t appear to belong to the children hands Sansa a copy of An Unfortunate Series of Events: The Bad Beginning. “My sister said my nephew wants this one.”

“Not that specific one, but I’ve read about 5 or 6 of them,” Sansa replies, looking at the cover. “They are all quite good; exciting and a little scary. My 9-year-old brother has read them all, some of them twice.”

“Well, I just don’t understand the attraction. When I was their age, I loved Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins. I just never understood why stories with orphans being raised by mean or distant relatives are so popular. I mean, you got Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, don’t get me started on Harry Potter, and now this series. I just don’t know what to make of it.” She takes the book back and flips through it.

It'_s not even noon yet and I’ve got a winner._ Sansa rolls her eyes in her mind and smiles at the customer. “Don’t forget Hansel and Gretel, Cinderella and Snow White. This device seems to be popular throughout literary history.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, I guess you’re right,” says the customer, looking a little sheepish. “I’ll take it, then. Thanks for your help!” She starts towards the front.

Sansa smirks. _Gets them every time. And I’m ready for a break._


	2. Break Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter that couldn't be combined.
> 
> I promise we will get to the letter part. :)

**Chapter 2: Break Time**

Sansa heads over to the café managing to avoid being snagged by customers with questions about anything from where is the music department (they don’t have one), to where the children’s sticker books are (in the children’s section).

“Ready for a break, yet?” Sansa looks at Margaery with a sly smile.

“You got another one?” Margaery squeals with excitement. “Myrcella! Can you watch the counter?”

After a clatter of dishes and a “darn it” escapes from back of the café, a sheepish looking adorable teenage girl pops her head through the swinging door.

“Sure, Margaery. Give me a sec; I need to sweep up the mess.” Myrcella retreats.

Margaery rolls her eyes and says to Sansa, “If that child wasn’t the sweetest thing that walked the world and didn’t make the best mocha latte half caff and extra whip, she’d be out on her cute little butt. She is an accident waiting to happen.”

“I heard that!” Myrcella pops back out to the front and stands ready at the counter. “Go on, but remember the good stuff, 'kay?”

They laugh and after getting water, Sansa and Margaery go to a table in the corner, away from everyone else. “Okay, let’s hear it.”


	3. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some background info

**Chapter 3: Past **

About three years ago, Sansa’s high school boyfriend of a little over a year broke things off. Saying he was her boyfriend was being generous. More of a control freak than her mother was, looking back, Sansa is not quite sure how it got past that level of control. Her mother had put parental controls on her phone and said she couldn’t date until she was 18, but when she first met Joffrey while chaperoning Sansa’s field trip to the art museum, Cat suddenly saw dollar signs and practically pushed the two together. Joffrey was rich; like American Housewife’s Westport, Connecticut rich. His dad made his fortune in the stock market and loved exotic game hunting. Oh yeah, and he was the mayor. Sansa’s family was on the genteel poor side: they came over on the Mayflower, had a signer of the Declaration of Independence in their family tree and were related to Robert Gould Shaw the white commanding officer of the second African-American regiment in the Civil War. While that commanded a considerable amount of respect, it did not garner the kind of wealth the Baratheons had acquired.

Back to Joffrey, though. He was handsome, in a James Spader’s character from Pretty In Pink sort of way. He could be charming when he wanted to and in the beginning he charmed Sansa. She had never really had a boyfriend, so there was nothing to compare him with and she trusted her mother’s judgement. The first few times they went out were like Cinderella going to the ball. They went to the most exclusive restaurants, sat in the family box seats for concerts and sporting events. Sansa thought she had died and gone to heaven.

About six months into the relationship, Joffrey started pressuring Sansa for more than just a French kiss and a hand down her blouse. He wanted to go all the way but she was not sure about it. He tried to persuade her with gifts; he got her a little tipsy one night at a party and he even flat out asked her wasn’t she curious? No not really, Sansa said, and at that Joffrey called her frigid.

Looking back, she should have taken that as a sign that something wasn’t right about their relationship, but of course, hindsight is 20/20. After that night, the Mr. Hyde part of Jeffrey started coming out. He was condescending (“_those are the commoner’s seats, not Baratheon seats_”), possessive (“_you’re not sitting with her, you’ll be with me_”) to down right mean (“_why do you need to study again? It’s not like you’ll ever get into college; you can’t pay for it_”). Sansa tried to talk to her mother about this but she didn’t understand what the problem was. _Just do what he says – if you marry him, you’ll never have to worry about anything_, she told her. That was not in Sansa’s plan.

At a disastrous dinner with Joffrey’s parents, Sansa found out he had put a tracker on her phone at his mother’s suggestion (“you need to keep an eye on that one, she’s not your typical type”). She blew up at all of them. Cersei ordered the chauffer to take her back to her “tenement” and told Joffrey she was trash and he was done picking up sluts from the other side of the tracks. When she told her mother what had happened, all Cat said was, _“What the hell did you do to piss them off?_”

Sansa went into a tailspin after that. Her grades started to drop, she called off at the book store frequently and stopped talking to most of her friends. She didn’t want anyone to say “I told you so,” even thought she knew they had every right to. It was her senior year and she was in danger of becoming what Joffrey thought of her all along – a stupid girl who wouldn’t amount to anything.

It was Margaery who managed to cut through the bullshit and pull her out of her spiral. She took her out one night, got her drunk and convinced her that she had a chance to reinvent herself – become the person she wanted to be, not what everyone expected her to be. After throwing up all night with Margaery holding her hair back, Sansa decided she was right. That night was a demarcation: everything that happened before was the old Sansa, from now on it would be the new Sansa.

She decided she would concentrate on her grades so she could get a scholarship and go to college to become a teacher. She realized after working at the store she loved children’s books and seeing the children’s faces light up when she showed them the latest pop-up story or _Magic Tree House_ installment.

She got Sam to deactivate the chip on her phone. Besides being an armchair philosopher, he was also a bit of an IT geek and what he couldn’t do, his friends usually could.

Fast forward to six months ago: Sansa happened to see a flyer on the community board at the store about a local organization that matched up pen pals. She remembered having a French pen pal in middle school; she was always excited when the little envelope with the “Par Avion” printed on it came in the mail. There was just something about opening the note and reading someone else’s life. They say eyes are the window to the soul; letters are an open door to the heart. Reading something handwritten was so personal, like she could see a little bit into the soul by looking at the loops and swirls of the pen.

She called the 800 number on the flyer (no online presence, of course) and after giving them some basic information she was told she would receive a questionnaire in the mail. Once she filled that out she would be matched up with someone who shared similar interests and then would receive an address. No name, just gender identity and age. Even the address was just a PO Box in keeping with the policy of complete anonymity at the beginning. The first letter came from the pen pal. It was pretty basic – no name, still, but he gave her some information about where he came from, his education and what he wanted to do with his life. He was 26 and was in grad school. She replied with pretty much the same information. Since then their letters had morphed from getting to know you and how was your day type messages to missives that revealed their philosophies of life and their hopes and dreams.


	4. The Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The letter.

**Chapter 4: Present**

It starts the same as all the other ones: “Dear Penpal,” Sansa reads to Margaery, who leans in eagerly.

_“I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been swamped at work and my car died. I know it’s no excuse but there it is. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it pretty much every day since I got your last letter. I just haven’t had time to do much more than work, study, fix the car, wash, rinse, repeat.”_

Margaery gives Sansa a look and says, “I’m impressed. He actually has a sense of humor, this one.”

“Shhh.” Sansa continues: _“Have you noticed the leaves starting to turn? I think they’ll be stunning this year….”_

“Did he really write the word stunning?! And a vocabulary to boot!” Margaery winked at Sansa who glared at her for interrupting again.

_“We’ve had good rain this summer and as long as it stays sunny and cool they should be really bright. _

_“Autumn is my favorite season. Maybe it’s my nature: I like the idea of putting on a sweater when it gets colder. Halloween, hayrides, bonfires, football – I have some pretty good memories of those growing up. I don’t like the days getting shorter, mind you, but I do like the idea of curling up in front of a fire with a good book.” _

“I forgot you said he was a reader. Have you asked him his favorite titles?” Sansa completely ignores her and goes on.

“_What is your favorite season? Let me guess, it’s either spring or summer. I hope it’s one of those two, or I’ve been completely reading you wrong this whole time. I think your attitude about life is pretty optimistic given what you’ve been through. Someone would have to have an indomitable spirit not to get dragged down into the muck with the rest of us.”_

“You told him about Joffrey? I don’t remember you telling me that.” Margaery looks at Sansa in disbelief.

“I don’t always tell you everything,” Sansa replies. “Just mostly everything.”

“And here I thought I was your confident, your sounding board, your best friend. I’m offended.” Margaery gives her a glare followed by a wink. “Maybe I have to get you drunk again so you’ll have no choice but to spill everything to me.”

Sansa laughed. “No chance of that happening again. At least not anytime soon. Now let me finish the letter before our break is up and you know who threatens us with bathroom duty.”

Margaery sits up and locks her lips with the imaginary key.

_“Someone with that outlook would have to love spring given that everything re-emerges and starts growing again. And summer just continues the trend with hotter temps and less rain. I can just see you walking down the street wearing a pale yellow skirt, a white top and a straw hat to keep the freckles away.” _She looks up for a minute knowing what Margaery is going to pounce on that_. _“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him I was a redhead, just that my skin is so pale I look like a ghost. Anyway….”

_“You would have a bag with produce from the farmer’s market and a bunch of flowers and a smile on your face for everyone you see. _

_“Sorry for the drifting…. must be my tired mind not engaging the filter that usually keeps these thoughts off the paper. It’s just so damn so easy to write to you. I’m not the best conversationalist. I can’t ever think of what to say and when I do, I usually forget it and just stumble along like an idiot. I think that’s why I like being a professional student. I can read and study and there’s no one to bother me. Just me in my own little world. Plus some of the professors are worse than me. I can’t believe some of these guys actually get married. And not just to other professors. To real people. Oh well, to each his own and even a blind hog finds an acorn sometime. Enough clichés for you?” _Sansa rolls her eyes and grins.

_“When I write to you, though, I seem to have so much to say. These last few months of correspondence have shown me that I can say things to someone, and they at, least on paper, pretend to like what I write.”_

Sansa looks up for a minute, very thoughtful. Margaery, for once, is speechless.

“I can’t believe he said I was easy to write to. I feel the same way about him. Otherwise I would have never been able to open up about Joffrey. He’s the only other one besides you who knows what happened and how I managed to get over him and start over.” She looks back at the letter.

_“Well, I better go. My ramen is getting ready to boil over. I really am just like those artists in La Boheme: I suffer for my art in a garret with no heat and cold water, eating ramen while huddled up with a blanket. _

_“So. Just. Kidding. My apartment is small but not that small and I have heat and hot water.” _ _😉 _

“Did he really just use a winking smiley face? Isn’t that against the rules, using anything that hints at technology in your letters? Shame on him. I think you need to turn him in to the pen pal gods.” Margaery smirks.

Again Sansa glares at her. “Shut up. He’s almost done. See, just two more lines.” She flashes the paper but retreats before Margaery can grab it. “Ok, ok, finish please.”

“_I hope you are having a good day today. And if you aren’t, take a moment to step outside and look at the leaves. They will make you smile. Autumn is almost upon us.”_

_“Til next time,_

_Your penpal_

Sansa looks up wistfully.

“What? Aren’t you happy? That was a fricking amazing letter! I think it may be his best one yet.” Margaery nods approvingly.

“Of course, I am. It’s just that…. well now I have to wait to get home to write him back. And I won’t get another one until I do.” She folds up the letter and carefully returns it to its envelope. “I’m thinking of asking him if he wants to meet.” She looks up shyly at Margaery.

Margaery’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Do you really think you are ready to try again? What if he’s a fraud, you know like in Cyrano De Bergerac – there’s another guy (or girl) writing his letters for him?” She gasps in horror. “What if the guy you really like is some fat chick with 80s hair and an English Lit degree who never leaves the house and writes love letters for shy guys?”

Sansa laughs as she gets up from the table. “Well there’s only one way to find out. I have to take the step sometime. I really don’t want to be pen pals indefinitely. I just feel so close to him when I read his letters. This one was shorter, but he still managed to put a lot of thought into it. I mean, come on, he knows which season is my favorite. And he mentioned _La Boheme. _You don’t bring that up unless you’re pretty sure the other person knows what it’s about. Yep, I think I’ll write him tonight and see if he’s up for it.”

“Well, you go girl. I wish you luck and I love seeing you like this. You’re so full of hope and promise. You almost make an old cynic like me a little misty-eyed.” Margaery waves her hands in front of her like she’s trying to stop tears.

“Oh, come on, Marg, you will find someone who will love you just for you one of these days. And he won’t be 15 years old, or gay or horrible.” Sansa knew as much about Margaery’s love life as Marg knew about hers.

“We’ll see.” Margaery goes back to the café just as a scream comes from the back area.


	5. Leaving for the ER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! I honestly didn't know if anyone would read this. I have 17 chapters written and it's hard for me to just post one a day. I might have to do 2 a day. When people talk about stories writing themselves - that truly happened with this one. 
> 
> #jonsa-valentine  
@jonsa-valentine

“What the hell?” Margaery runs to the back. “Oh my god, do you didn’t?! Yep, you did. What happened?”

Sansa rushes to the counter just in time for Margaery to drag a teary Myrcella out to the front. Her eye is drawn to the place on her arm where Myrcella keeps looking.

“Holy crap! That’s a hell of a burn. What happened?” She pulls Myrcella to the sink and grabs a towel, gets it wet and starts to wrap it around her arm. Margaery pages a manager.

“I was starting to run the dishwasher and I bumped into the counter and, I don’t know what happened. The next thing I see is the bottle of industrial cleanser tipping over on the shelf and spilling on my arm. It really burns.” Myrcella is calming down somewhat.

Sam hurries into the café. “Do you think she should go to the ER? – I mean we’re going to have to do Worker’s Comp so may as well get documentation. Sansa, can you take her? I can’t let Margaery leave; there’d be no one to man the café.”

“Sure, but I’m parked out back. Will it be ok for us to go through the back? You know how Jon is about having to open and shut the door all the time.” Sansa wrinkles her nose in irritation. For some reason, Jon hates it whenever anyone leaves through the back unless it’s to do the trash. He says it’s too heavy plus it’s always locked which means he always has to be around to let them out.

“Trust me, he’ll take one look at her arm and have it open before you have your coats on.”

“You know him best, I guess, but he’s very possessive about that door,” Sansa remarks. Sam is friends with Jon and Sansa can’t figure out for the life of her why. Sam is so sweet and smart and considerate and Jon is….well he’s not.

Sansa and Myrcella go back to the break room and grab coats and purses. They open the door to the back area and can hear music softly playing. Jon is in one of the open spaces, sweeping the floor and is wearing earbuds. He is totally oblivious to their presence.

“Jon? Hey, Jon? JON!” Sansa has to practically stand right in front of him to get his attention. He looks up and jumps back.

“What the hell? You didn’t have to sneak up on me!” He pulls one earbud out and the music suddenly gets louder.

“How in the world are you not deaf? We could hear the music when we opened the door.” Sansa can’t imagine how loud it must be in his ears. “We need out the back. Myrcella…..”

“Really? You couldn’t go out the front and around like every other employee?” He interrupts her.

“…..got burned in the café and I need to take her to the ER.”

“Oh. Well then, OK.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket and heads over to the door, music still emanating from his earbuds. “I could take her, if you don’t think you can handle it.” He takes a look at Myrcella’s arm and grimaces. “That looks like it hurts.” He unlocks the door and swings it open.

“Yeah, Jon, it’s a burn. Burns usually do. And how old do you think I am, 12? I have 3 brothers and a sister younger than me – I’ve seen everything.” She sweeps past him with Myrcella on her heels.

“Forgive me, my lady, for having some empathy. I hope I never get hurt while you’re around. You’d leave me bleeding to death on the ground.” He rolls his eyes and shuts the door on her.

“God he pisses me off. ‘My lady’! He’s so snotty. Sometimes I wonder how he can stand himself.” Sansa opens the passenger door for Myrcella.

“Actually, he’s not that bad. I think you just caught him on a bad day. Earlier he was saying something about a shipment being held up and how it was going to screw with the rest of the schedule.” Myrcella hisses in pain as she pulls the seat belt over herself. “So, it’s just me he’s always an ass to, then. Figures.”

“Figures? Why?”

“He seems to think I’m some sort of entitled bitch who thinks everyone should take care of her. He’s always calling me princess, or my lady or some other denigrating name.” She starts the car and puts it in reverse.

Myrcella thinks about that for a second, then says, “Maybe he just likes you.”

“What? Jon!? No way in hell.” Sansa pulls onto the street.


	6. Back to the Store

Chapter 6: Back to the Store

Sansa parks in front of the store when she returns with Myrcella. Petyr, the store manager is there when they walk in. He is middle-aged with short salt and pepper that he keeps slicked back. Sansa thinks it makes him look like a gangster from the ‘30s. Really, he’s just a creep. He is very solicitous of all the female employees but manages to steer clear of actual sexual harassment. The girls can’t stand him, but they put up with him because he’s not around that much, having left much of the managing to Sam.

“Myrcella! How are you? Does it hurt? If you need to take the rest of the day to recover, I can get someone to cover for you. Here, sit. Margaery, get her some water.” He leads her over to a table in the café. He treats Myrcella like the daughter he never had. He’s the perfect gentleman with her; probably because everyone watches out for her and she’s only 16-years-old.

“Thanks, Petyr, it’s not too bad, barely second degree.” She sinks in to the chair, exhausted. Sansa starts to sit down across from her, but Petyr stops her.

“Do you have paperwork from the hospital for me? I need to write this up for WC.” He pulls her over to another table and reaches to take her coat off. Sansa pulls away from him just then and shrugs out of her coat herself before sitting down.

“Of course, Petyr. They are right here in my purse.” She reaches for her bag and pulls out a bunch of papers. Petyr, disappointed, but undeterred, reaches across the table and takes them from her. As he does his clammy fingers brush hers. She stifles a shudder. “I should probably get back to work, though. There’s a ton of stuff to shelve in Kids.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, when Sam called me, I came in and took care of it for you,” Petyr says this with a gleam in his eye.

_Ugh, I do not want to be beholden to this man. Plus, he probably messed it up and I’ll have to spend more time fixing it._ She tries to look appreciative. “Thank you, Petyr, but you did not have to do that.”

“Of course I did, dear. It was kind of a mess and there were quite a few customers in the section while you were gone. Wouldn’t want any of the customers tripping over a V-cart.” He simpers a little, thinking he has her where he wants her – grateful to him and hopefully willing to show him a little appreciation.

Sansa clears her throat and stands up. “Uh, thanks, I owe you. Do you have everything you need?” She begins to move away from the table. Luckily, Sam walks up and takes her place.

“Yes, Sansa, I’ve got everything I need. For now.” Petyr looks at her pointedly and then looks at the papers.

Sansa looks gratefully at Sam and walks towards the break room to hang up her coat. _Thank god that’s over. I better go see what kind of destruction he’s caused._


	7. Later that Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know these chapters are a little short, so I'm posting more than one at a time.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! I'm so glad you like this story!

**Chapter 7:** **Later that night**

Sansa leaves work as soon as she can that evening. She only had to stay until 6 and it didn’t take her too long to restore the Kids department to rights. All she wants to do when she gets home is take a bath to get rid of any creepiness left over from Petyr, have a glass of wine and write her letter.

She fields a call from her mother who wants to know how work is going and if she’d seen Petyr lately. Petyr and her mother were friends back when they were kids and Sansa always thought that maybe there might have been something else. He always uses their friendship as a conversation starter with her. _“You know, when your mother and I were younger we used do…” _or _“Did your mother ever tell you about the party we went to in the Vale….”_ She cringed every time he would do that – the last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to find out there was a connection between them.

Finally, in a fresh pair of pjs (pink with yellow flowers) with a glass of Pinot Grigio at her side, she reaches for her special pen and stationery that she only uses when she writes to her friend.

_Dear Penpal,_

_I was so excited to get you letter today! It is always the highlight of my day._

_Thanks to you, I did step out and look at the leaves. They hold so much promise. I can’t wait until they are at their zenith._

_I’m sorry about your car. It sucks when you live in a town where mass transit leaves a lot to be desired and you can’t even get a job without needing a car._

_You, my friend, are also, so, so easy to talk to. I feel like I’ve known you all my life; and I love how our letters are really just one continuous conversation._

_Yes, you are right: my favorite season is spring. Some of it is the beauty of seeing the flowering trees and the tulips and daffodils when they pop up. _ _Anne Frank talked about “thinking herself out” and wanting all the flowers to bloom at once:_

_"You know the most wonderful part about thinking yourself out? You can have it any way you like. You can have roses and violets and chrysanthemums all blooming at the same time.”_

_Anne Frank must have felt that way because she never knew if she would see the next bloom._

_It’s funny – I used to feel that way, too. The violets would have just popped up and I would be looking around for the peonies and the roses and then the chrysanthemums. I was so impatient back then. I just didn’t know how it could be snatched away from you so fast. Because once they bloom, they are gone._

_Now I savor every season and I know that it’s not over when the violets are done; there’s the daffodils, then the peonies, then the roses and finally the chrysanthemums show up at the tail end of the growing season. And the best part? I know in a few months they will come back again. _ _Your letters are kind of like that to me as well. I get one letter and then I’m impatient for the next. But I relax because I know it will come._

_I want to ask you something. I think I would like to meet you, finally. I feel like I know you so well and now I want to put a face with the words._

_Would that be okay? If you don’t want to I completely understand. Maybe you just want to stay anonymous. One of my friends thinks maybe you’re some fat chick with 80s hair and an English Lit degree who never leaves the house and writes love letters for guys! Of course, I don’t think that._

_We could just meet for a drink after I get off work. Someplace that we both feel comfortable with. Maybe the Eyrie? Do you know that spot? It's on the Hill and has that big flag with the bird on it?_

_You pick a date – I’m completely free (as in, I have no social engagements that can’t be changed) _ _😊_

_I look so forward to hearing from you._

_Affectionately,_

_Your Penpal_

Sansa puts her pen down and reads over what she has written. With a couple of little corrections (thank God for Wite-Out!) she folds it up carefully and puts it in an envelope. She places a stamp on it and addresses it with a flourish. Setting it next to her purse, she looks at it one more time.

_Did I really ask him to meet? What if he says no? _She picks it up and stares at it. Then she puts it down one more time. _Sansa, you want to do this. You know it’s time to re-engage in the world. This is the first step._

She turns off the light and goes to bed.


	8. The Next Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the meet!

**Chapter 8: The next week**

The next few days pass infuriatingly slow for Sansa. She sets up the Halloween kids display, but there are big holes where the merchandise hasn’t arrived. All the displays change over, too, and she is running from the department to the back what feels like every 15 minutes to get something she needs only to find out from Jon that it hasn’t come in yet. That just makes her mad at him and he snaps back at her to not kill the messenger. She finally figures out how to make the central display work when Jon comes around the corner with a cart full of stuffed toys.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this the missing merch?” Sansa looks at the cart disbelievingly. “When did they come in and why are you bringing them to me just now?” She knows shipments always come in the morning; it’s two o’clock. She fixes Jon with a look that dares him to come up with a valid reason.

“Your department isn’t the only one that got a crap ton of stuff, you know. Although, I’d say yours is just crap. Look at this stuff – I can’t believe people pay good money for a stuffed candy corn.” He picks up said candy corn plush and tosses it up in the air.

“What, you’d rather they buy Voltaire and Kierkegaard for their teething toddler?” Sansa snatches the plush from his hands and plops it on the display.

“No, I’m just saying… Oh what do you care what I’m saying.” Jon turns to go back to the stockroom. He stops and turns around. “All I’m saying is book stores are more like toy stores than bookstores any more. That’s all.” He leaves without waiting for a response.

Sansa watches him leave. “Uggh, can’t someone transfer him?” She says to no one. She takes a look around her department. _He’s not half wrong, though. It does seem like there’s more stuffed animals and games than books. Not that I’ll ever admit it._

_*_

Sam walks over from the Self-Improvement section to the café. Margaery comes out of the back room wiping her hands on a towel.

“Looking for something to drink, Sam?” She asks. She starts to grab a cup to make him his usual tea.

“Uh…oh…uh,” he stammers. Margaery just looks at him, just waiting. She knows eventually he’ll get to the point. He just has to get over the ever-present shyness.

“Sansa and Jon.”

“What about them? They hate each other.” Margaery doesn’t even look up while she fixes the drink.

“Are you sure? I wonder if there is something going on. I mean, they think they hate each other. But sometimes it’s a little ‘the lady doth protest too much,’ you know.” He gratefully takes the tea from Margaery. “You should have heard them just a minute ago; sniping over the stuffed animals. They sounded like two little kids fighting over a popsicle.”

Margaery shakes her head. “Don’t read too much into it. They just don’t get along. I mean, think about it. Jon works in the back, unloading boxes of books all day, ships stuff to be returned, hardly talks to anyone. Sansa never met a kid she couldn’t sell something to, be it book, toy or game. I don’t see anything there.”

“I’ll bet you fifty bucks.” Sam rocks back on his heels.

“You’re on.” They shake hands and Sam leaves the café.

*

That night, Sansa finds a new letter in her post office box. She picks it up and looks at it closely, as if she could glean what it says without opening it. She smiles quietly to herself and heads out to her apartment.

Once there, she hangs up her coat, puts her purse on the hall table and goes to the kitchen. Once she has a hot cup of her favorite tea steeping on the table, she picks up the letter.

_The moment of truth. Once I open this I’ll know how he feels. If he wants to take the next step, he’ll agree to meet me. If he doesn’t, well then so be it. We’ll just remain penpals. Oh, who am I kidding. I’ll be so disappointed if he doesn’t. _

"Well, here goes…"

She carefully lifts the flap and pulls out the one sheet of vellum and unfolds it.

_Dear Penpal,_

_Fat chick with 80s hair, huh? At least your friend suggested that I had an English Lit degree. _

_No, seriously, I am who I say I am. Just a student who has no idea how to talk to girls._

_But, as wonderful as this correspondence has been, I have to admit that I have been wanting to meet you for some time. Given what you’ve told me, I decided to wait for you to make the first move. I didn’t want to pressure you or scare you away. _

_I feel like we have had such a good time writing each other that we could be comfortable actually meeting face to face. I’m so glad you feel the same way._

_How about 10 days from now on the 20th? Yes, I know the Eyrie although I haven’t been there myself. Others have told me it’s a perfect first date place. Not that this is a first date. Or maybe it is. Is it? Aaaaagh, where’s the Wite-out? _

_Forget I said any of that last paragraph. Do you want to meet around 8? I’ll have on a winter coat and a fraternity pin on the lapel. It’s not what you think. It’s the honorary fraternity for Humanities. I am not a frat boy._

_I look forward to this meeting. _

_Breathlessly,_

_Your Penpal_


	9. Small Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting chapter 9, 10 and 11 at the same time because I realized I had one more little small chapter before the big day.  
I didn't want to have any disgruntled readers. :)

Sansa bangs on the store window to get Margaery’s attention. She rushes out from the back room looking alarmed at the door. _Let me in!_ Sansa mouths to her and points to the door.

“What are you…”

“He said yes!” Sansa is practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“Ok, ok, calm down before everyone else hears you!” Margaery lets her in and gives her a huge bear hug. “I’m so happy for you! When? Where? I need details!”

*****

“Hey, that’s not where your cart goes, that’s Myrcella’s spot.” Jon crosses his arms and looks at Sansa like she’s a kindergartener.

“No shit, Sherlock. This is Myrcella’s cart. I told her I’d bring it back her for her so she could stay up front.” She puts the cart back and turns around to leave.

“Whoa…you actually do help people?” Jon narrows his eyes in mock disbelief.

When they deserve it,” Sansa shoots back. _Really, he can’t let up on the spoiled brat crap for one minute?_

Jon turns around without a word and goes back to his desk and starts angrily tapping at his keyboard.

“Careful, you might break it. You wouldn’t want to have to tell Petyr you need a new keyboard, would you?” Sansa flounces out.

Pleased that she got the last word (for once) she makes her way towards the front.


	10. Day of the Meeting

“Petyr? I need to ask a favor.” _That was cringeworthy_. The last she wants to do is have to owe Petyr anything.

Petyr looks up from his computer. “Yes, Sansa. What do you need?” He takes in her appearance and raises an eyebrow. “You look nice today. Special occasion?”

_God, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. _“Um, well I need to leave early if at all possible. I have an appointment.” She knows he’s never going to believe that, but she sure as hell is not going to tell him she has a date.

“Oh?” His expression says it all. “I suppose there are enough people to close and we have been somewhat slow at the end of the night. As long as people don’t show up thinking we close at 11 like the other stores.” She had to agree with him there. There was always someone on a Friday night waltzing in at 8:55 thinking they had all the time in the world to browse only to become annoyed when they were told the store closed in 5 minutes. Sometimes customers actually protested and tried to tell them they knew exactly what they were getting and would only be a second. “The customer is right” sometimes really sucked.

“Thanks so much!” Sansa bolted before he could say anything else. _Phew! Dodged a bullet there._ She goes to the break room and puts away her things.

**

Finally, it’s 7:30. Thirty minutes left to make her way to the meeting place. She corrals Gilly and Margaery in the stockroom, Jon having finished his shift at 3 that afternoon.

“Well, is everything in place? I don’t have my dress in my underwear, or mascara under my eyes, do I? I’m so freaking nervous.” Sansa is pacing back and forth practically wringing her hands.

“You look like a dream, sweetie.” Margaery steps back and appraises her appearance. “Dress is in place, mascara where it’s supposed to be. Lipstick, pale, but shiny. Not what I’d normally pick, but then you know that.”

Gilly shushes her. “Yes we do, Margaery and ‘Red Light District Red’ is not what anyone would pick for a first date. Maybe for Halloween.” She turns to Sansa. “You are beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you as their penpal. Did you get the book?”

“He likes being my penpal, but will he like me in person, though?”

“Of course, he will. And if he doesn’t…well we have friends who know people,” Margaery threatens mockingly.

Sansa is wearing a shirtwaist dark green dress with a wide gold belt. Small gold studs, necklace and bracelet and black ballet flats complete the outfit. Her hair is in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She looks at her two best friends, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Well, here goes nothing.” She grabs her purse, phone and keys and her beat up copy of_ Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Gir_l. She had told him that book would be on the table. “Wish me luck!” The girls walk her up front and out the door.

“You will have a wonderful time!” Gilly kisses her cheek.

“Can’t wait to hear every detail!” Margaery winks and hugs her.

“As if!” Sansa practically skips to her car.


	11. The Meeting

Sansa gets to the restaurant 10 minutes early. She made a reservation (because she plans like that) and eventually is shown to a table for two next to the fireplace. After trying to decide which seat would be most advantageous she takes the seat with the view of the entrance. She orders a glass of wine and puts the book on the table. She fidgets with it off and on, moving it around to see which way would be the best way for him to see it easily.

The appointed time comes and goes. She keeps looking towards the door but … nothing. Her flush of nerves and anticipation slowly turns to embarrassment and humiliation. She fends off the waiter’s discreet but insistent attempts to take her order by saying that her guest will be there soon.

**

Jon walks down the street looking at the GPS on his phone. He’s not familiar with the neighborhood and doesn’t want to get turned around. He’s nervous enough as it is. He feels a little out of place in his nice overcoat, sport coat, shirt and tie, let alone with real shoes on, not just the boots or converse he wears all the time at work. _What if I blow this? I said I didn’t care what happened. That if things didn’t click we would still correspond. But it has to be good. She seems to get me. It’s just been so long since I’ve been on a date._

**

He finds the restaurant. It looks like a little French café with café curtains that obscure the bottom half of the windows but leave the top clear. He peaks in the window and tries to not look like a stalker. The fireplace catches his eye and he looks past it to the table next to it. He can see the book on the table. _This is it. That’s her. _He looks up from the book to the person sitting at the table. _WTF? What is she doing here? Wait, she has a book on the table. Who else goes to a romantic café with a book? Oh. My. God. Noooooo……_

He pulls away from the window and leans against the wall in complete dismay. _This cannot be happening. The girl of my letters is…Sansa?!?! There has to be some mistake. Maybe she’s friends with her and she got cold feet and sent her to be her proxy? That has to be the answer. _But deep down, he knows that is not the answer. Deep down, he knows she is the one. Only problem is, what is he going to do now?

He bolts. The next time he looks up he is in front of the bar where he left Sam. _Thank God he’s still there. He’ll be able to figure out what the hell is going on._ He pulls open the door. Sam looks up and his face falls.

“What….what….happened? Did she not show up?” Sam get him a drink and sets him down at the bar.

“Worse.”

“What could be worse?” Sam is starting to get a little worried for his best friend.

“There was someone there.” Jon rakes his hand through his hair and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Come on, you can tell me. Was she ugly? Old? A guy?” He can’t think of much else that could be worse.

He drops his hand to the bar and looks straight at Sam. “It’s Sansa.”

“It’s Sansa? Oh well, that’s not so….. Wait a minute? Did you say Sansa?” Sam is incredulous. And trying not to smile. _Fifty bucks. Easiest bet I ever made. _ “Well, what are you going to do now?”

“Do now? Nothing? How do I come back from this?” Jon is at his wit’s end. How can the biggest thorn in his side at work be the girl he’s pinned his hopes on? Life has played a cruel yet ironic trick on him.

“You pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get over there and confront her?”

“What? No way! I cannot do that. She hates me! She thinks I’m some stupid stock boy who thinks _she’s_ the biggest snob this side of the sea. She’ll have a field day with this. I’ll _never _live it down. I have to quit.”

“Whoa, whoa, there cowboy. Don’t be so hasty. You don’t know how she’ll react. Remember, she has no idea it’s you. She might feel the same way. You can both laugh about it and be embarrassed together.”

“Not helping, Sam.” Jon glowers into his drink. “Another one,” he tells the bartender.

“O come on. Live a little. Didn’t you go out with some girl in high school who broke up with you? You survived seeing her every day, didn’t you? You’re still here and you probably learned a valuable lesson. I can’t think of one right now but give me time.” Sam chuckles.

*

She sits lost in thought when she looks up to see Jon entering the café and heading straight for her.

_Oh, no. This is so not happening. What is he…_

“Sansa? Is that you? What are you doing here?” He stands at the table, unsure what to do, his hands in his pockets. She looks up sheepishly, but quickly bristles.

“I’m doing whatever anybody else does in a restaurant. I might ask the same of you?”

Before he can answer, the waiter approaches with a smile of relief on his face. “Ah, miss. I see your wait was not in vain. Sir, this young lady was certain that you would be here, when everyone else said she was being stood up.” He pulls out the chair and practically pushes Jon into it. “I’ll be back with the wine list.”

“No, wait, he’s not….”

“But, I’m not….”

Jon looks at Sansa for permission after the waiter leaves the table.

She sighs. “Fine. It’s not like anyone else is going to come anyway.”

Jon feels a little guilty. “Oh, you mean, you _were_ waiting for someone?” He says softly.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but, yes, I was supposed to be meeting someone. But that was an hour ago so…” Sansa’s voice drifts off.

“I’m sorry.” He does not know what else to say. “Waiter! I'll have what she's having."

_What do I have to lose? Only my dignity?_ Sansa resigns herself to his company and nods.


	12. Because I didn't know where to put this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized this should have gone at the end of chapter 11, but I didn't want anyone to have to go back and reread the chapter. It's just a tiny little plot thickener.

**Back at the store…**

Petyr is not a little put off by Sansa’s request to leave early. He grants her request only because he knows he can hold it over her head later. The way she looked today is different from her normal wardrobe, or demeanor, for that matter. And he is always aware of her wardrobe. She so reminds him of his first love that he really has to be on his guard so as not to give himself away. He figures she must be meeting someone and that makes him not a little jealous. While no one is in the break room he steals in and looks in her locker for any clues. He spies a piece of paper sticking out of a book and pulls it out. It is dated several months ago but that is all there is in terms of specific information. Even the greeting is just “Dear Penpal.”

He pockets the letter and goes to his office. His wheels are spinning with a plan. In his office he makes one call:

“Hello, Joffrey. It’s Petyr. I’ve some very intriguing information that might interest you.”


	13. Two days after the fateful non-meeting

**Chapter12: Two days after the fateful non-meeting **

Jon unlocks the back door to the store and lets himself in. He had the day off yesterday so he had some time to figure out his strategy with Sansa since their…whatever it was. As soon as he walks in the door, he shuts it, turns off the alarm, leans against it and just sighs. _Could it really be true? Is she really the one who wrote those beautiful, sweet optimistic letters? Now that I’m here and I remember the work Sansa, I just can’t believe it. Well, regardless, we still have to work together so I’ll just have to play it by ear._

He clocks in and turns on his computer. There is a message from Petyr to come see him once he gets in. _Great, just great. What a fanfuckingtastic way to start the day. _He checks the daily schedule. Petyr will be in at 8. Sansa doesn’t come in until 10.

He starts sorting the returns and getting them ready for shipping. Most are kid’s books which just makes him think about Sansa some more. Their conversation two days ago was stilted to say the least, but he did learn that she was studying to be a teacher (he already knew from the letters, but now he had to project that career on to his coworker). _I guess it fits. She does like the children’s section; I’ve heard her storytimes are legendary. Props and voices and everything. She even gets some of the kids involved. _ He shakes his head. How can he ever reconcile the work Sansa with his delightful penpal? Then he thinks about some of the things she’s told him in the letters. His penpal had had such a horrible relationship with her boyfriend. That was Sansa? No way. He could not see work Sansa letting someone treat her that way. Not with the way she stood up to him when he needled her.

_What would she think if she found out I was her penpal? _That didn’t even bear contemplation. If she found out she would laugh him right out of the store. There’s no way she would be able to look at him and see her penpal, the one getting his PhD and planning to become a Classics professor. Even if she did think she could wrap her head around it, he didn’t think she would believe his career aspirations. _No, she only sees me as a glorified shipping clerk. Someone who could never be on her level. She has no idea that I’m at school, too. _

He finally yelled at himself. “Snap out of it, Snow! You are going to drive yourself crazy.”

**

At 8, Jon brushes off his hands and goes into the manager’s office. He tries to stay out of there as much as possible, even though, technically he is a manager, too. He just doesn’t have anyone to manage.

“You wanted to see me, Petyr?”

Petyr turns from his computer and faces Jon. “Oh, Jon, thanks for stopping in. We are going to be a little short today up front. Could you help out with shelving and customer service?”

Jon is brought up short. He never has to go up front unless it’s to deliver orders. He likes his little stock room kingdom where he can prioritize his responsibilities and basically work by himself. Being up front means having to deal with crazy customers with ridiculous demands. He knows it’s true, he’s seen the requests come through on the computer. You could map cultural trends just by running the list of requests he gets. Everything from the latest Harry Potter stuff to ridiculously expensive text books. He knows when SAT/ACT season starts; when the latest American Girl is coming out; when Oprah or Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz or Ellen mentions a books they’ve been reading. They all show up on his screen. But to have to meet customers in person? No thank you very much.

“Uh, why me?”

“Well, we’ve had some call offs. Edd is on a trip up north, Tommen’s grandmother died and Sansa’s been out since yesterday? I’m about ready to hire that Pyp kid in the café – he’s here so often I forget he’s just a customer. So you can see we really need you.”

_Sansa’s been sick? Shit, that’s on me. _Resigned, Jon shrugs. “Okay, but I can’t promise I’ll be very good. I’m…not that great with people.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. But I’m desperate.” Petyr goes back to his computer; conversation is over.

“One question? Can I take a longer lunch? I need to run an errand that I forgot about.”

“Sure.” Petyr waved his hand in dismissal.

Jon leaves the office and goes back to the stock room. Sam’s back there, getting the dailies and obviously waiting for Jon.

“Oh, there you are. I guess you talked to Petyr?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Sansa was sick yesterday?” Jon runs his hand through his hair, pacing, trying to wrap his head around that.

“I just found out myself. We worked different shifts yesterday. I haven’t seen Gilly or Margaery yet to find out what happened.”

“What the hell do you think happened? I happened. She’s sick because of me. I ruined her relationship with her pen pal, me, and now she can’t come into work.” Jon is working himself up into a fever pitch of guilt.

“Now, before you go there, just think about the fact that she might really be sick.”

“I’m going to find out. I told Petyr I needed a longer lunch today to run an errand. I’m gonna go see her.”

“And do what, exactly? Come clean? Berate her for missing work? Don’t rub it in, Jon. You do have to keep working together.” Sam looks at Jon trying to determine his plan.

“No I just want to see how she’s doing. Truly. If she’s sick because of what happened, I want to try to do something to make it up to her. I feel horribly guilty. I mean I don’t like her all that much, but I wouldn’t want her to feel that way because of something I did. Even if she doesn’t know it was me. Maybe I’ll tell her I ran into him. Give her some excuse so she doesn’t lose all hope.”

“Why Jon, you sound like you really want to…” Sam looks at him suspiciously.

“Me? No, no, I just need to absolve myself of this guilt. That’s all.” Jon turns around to his computer hoping Sam will take the hint and leave.

_Oh, I’m not so sure. _Sam smiles to himself and quietly leaves the stockroom.


	14. Sansa's Flat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for today. I finished it, though and I'm going to upload the rest of it tomorrow for Valentine's Day.

Sansa rolls over in her bed and moans. _Oh, my God. What has happened to me? _

This is the second day she’s been like this. At first, she thought it was just heartbreak. She couldn’t believe her friend had stood her up. She was so sure this was going to be perfect. They had so much in common and could talk, or rather, write so easily to each other. What happened? The only thing she can think of is that he saw her with Jon and didn’t come in. Damn Jon. He always seems to be messing with her. At work it’s her head; two nights ago it was her heart. _What am I going to do when I go back to work? I can’t bear to have him see me after I was so humiliated at the café. _

She groans and tries to sit up. She vaguely remembers calling off and having to listen to Petyr’s fake concern. Then her head started to pound and she just had to lay back down. Slowly she realizes the pounding in her head is actually someone knocking on her door.

“Go away.” She puts her pillow over her head.

“Sansa, it’s Jon.” _O.M.G. You’ve got to be kidding me. _

“I said go away.”

“Sansa, let me in, Margaery sent me.” He cringes at the little white lie. Maybe that way she’ll let him in. Sure, enough, the door opens a crack.

“Margaery knows?” She opens it a little wider and he takes that as an invitation to come in.

“Well, she knows you’re sick. It’s been two days. May I?” He takes off his coat and sets a bag on the table by her door. “I brought you something. To help you feel better.”

“I’m not sure anything will help. Wait, are you spying on me?” She pulls her robe closer to her and looks at him suspiciously.

“Spying? No! I just want to see if you’re okay. You know… after everything.” He holds his hands up in innocence.

“You are spying! I can tell! Well, I’m fine. I’m feeling much better. I’m coming in. You can just leave and tell everyone I’ll be in shortly. Now, where are my clothes?” She starts to look around wildly and finds a sweater. “Here they are. I’ll be ready now as soon as I find my shoes.” She puts the sweater on over her robe and picks up a sandal and tries to put it on over her socks. “Ok, let’s go.” She starts to move towards the door and Jon grabs her waist and reels her back in.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. Jeez, Sansa, you’re burning up. You need to be in bed.” He tries to steer her towards the bedroom. She turns around quickly and ends up with her face in her chest.

“Oh, sorry.” She back up and looks at him. “Why are there two of you?” She stumbles and he keeps her from falling.

“Bed, now. Do you have any aspirin?” _Tylenol 3, Oxy? Anything? This was not what I expected to see. She’s must be delirious. _He picks her up and carries her into the bedroom and puts her on the bed. He sits down next to her and removes the one sandal.

“I took some Nyquil about an hour ago.” She flings her arm towards the nightstand and he sees a half empty bottle and a glass of water.

_Obviously, some is a relative term. But it explains a lot._ “Sansa, look at me.” He reaches for her chin and makes her look at him.

“Hmmm? You’re pretty, has anyone ever told you that?” She tries to touch his cheek and ends up low-key slapping him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Ugh, I ruin everything. I ruined my date. I ruined my chance to actually meet the man I love (even I know that sounds strange, but it is what it is). And he’s never gonna write me again.” Her face crumples and the tears start flowing.

“Oh Sansa, that’s not true. I’m sure he’ll write you. He told me so.” _Shit. I wonder if she’ll catch what I just said._

“Really? You think so? Wait, he told you so?” She looks at him accusingly. “What do you mean?”

_Uh oh, Snow. Thank fast. Although I doubt she’ll remember this. _“Uh, well when I left the café I started walking home. Someone was walking ahead of me and when we crossed the street he turned and asked me I had just left the café and if I saw a woman sitting at a table with a copy of Anne Frank. I said yes, that she had been waiting for someone. He looked chagrined and worried.”

“He did?” She looks so pathetically hopeful.

“Yes, and he asked me if I knew you. I told him we worked together. He asked me to give you a message and tell you he had to go out of town suddenly and couldn’t meet.”

“Well, if he was outside the restaurant why didn’t he just come in and say it himself? I would have understood.” Sansa’s eyes were getting heavy.

“Well, he didn’t want your first meeting to be hurried with him giving an excuse. But he told me he would write you and explain all of it.” He brushes a stray hair away from her face. _She really doesn’t look like the person he fights with at work when she’s like this._

“He did?” She has been reduced to repeating herself.

“He did,” he reassures her. “Now, I’m going to put what I brought you in the refrigerator so you can have it later once you’ve had a good sleep.” He gets up from the bed and gently pushes her down to the pillow. It doesn’t take much.

“What is it?”

“What everyone needs when they are sick. Chicken noodle soup of course.” He smiles gently and pulls the covers up as she nestles into the pillow. He stands up and gets ready to leave.

“Jon?”

“Yes, Sansa?”

“I don’t care what everyone says about you. You are nice.” And with that she lets out a big sigh and is out.

Jon chuckles. He grabs the soup and put it away. But before he leaves he also finds a bowl and a spoon and saucepan so that everything is ready for her to heat it up. It’s the least he can do. Then he slips out the door.


	15. Margaery's Love Life Crashes and Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I am uploading the rest of the story today!!!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments. I did not expect to have very many people read this, so I am so excited.

Margaery walks into the store for her afternoon shift and makes a beeline for the café without saying hi to anyone. Sansa, who has just come up the front to put a book on hold sees her slam the back door to the café. She walks over to the Newstand as Gilly comes out from Women’s Magazines and looks around.

“What the heck was that?” Gilly asks her.

“Uh, that was Margaery,” Sansa replies.

“What happened? Should I be concerned?” Gilly already looks concerned.

“A man.” Only a member of the opposite sex identifying as male would put Margaery in this mood. “It’s always a man.”

The two make their way to the café. Sansa lightly knocks on the door. “Marg? Are you all right?”

The door opens a crack. A red-eyed runny-nosed Margaery peaks out from behind it.

“Are there any guys around? If I see one, they might become the unintended martyr for all male humanity.” Her eyes narrow with imagined vengeance.

“Only Pyp and he’s got his back to you and earbuds – he’ll never see it coming.” Gilly giggles at the fact she just condoned androcide. “But you can’t. Myrcella would never forgive your for axing her eye candy.”

Pyp is a student and friend of Myrcella’s who claims the café is the only place he can study. And only when she’s working. He’s a fixture.

“Where is she by the way?” Margaery looks around.

“She went to the back for the new supply shipment. I was keeping an eye on the café for her. We’re so slow, it was safe.” Gilly pulls Margaery out into the café and propels her to a chair. “Sit and spill it.”

“Men suck! I’m never talking to one again. Well, except for these guys here, but they may as well be brothers. So they don’t count.” She crosses her arms and scowls.

“Let me guess. You had a date that didn’t go well?” Sansa can’t imagine Margaery getting the bad end of a date. She is always in control; no one pulls anything over on her. She is Medusa when it came to men. Margaery could turn a man to stone with a look. She always has the upper hand and knows how to use it, too, if necessary.

“It didn’t just end badly, it imploded. This guy, actually I’ve been seeing him for a couple of months; I didn’t tell you guys about how because it was going so well and I didn’t want to jinx it…”

She proceeds to tell Sansa and Gilly how she fell hard for this guy, only to find that when he asked her to move in with him (which she totally would have done, she was that sure) he slipped and mentioned his wife. Then of course he tried to salvage everything by the ages old promise that he was leaving her.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see through his sorry ass lies!” Her lip quivers and she starts to tear up. Sansa and Gilly each grab one of her hands.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t be too hard on yourself. How many times have we made that mistake? You were sucked in by his charms and you opened up and trusted him.” Sansa gives her a napkin to blow her nose.

“Yeah, (sniff sniff) but that’s what you guys do. You let your romantic dreams cloud your judgment. I never let my guard down, never!” And with that she breaks down completely.

By now Myrcella has come back with the dolley full of paper goods for the café. She takes one look at Margaery and says, “I’ll stay until she’s ok.” She doesn’t ask any questions, she just knows Margaery needs some time to get herself together. Besides, Margaery has been the proverbial big sister to her and Myrcella worships the ground she walks on.

Sansa offer to take the dolley back to the stock room so Myrcella can take charge of the café. She opens the door to the back and pulls the cart in behind her.

*****

Jon turns away from his computer when the door shuts. His heart stops for a second as he sees Sansa with….Myrcella’s cart again?

“What, are you training for the café now? I’ve got a whole cart full of that new series about zombies and dragons that’s been waiting for you for two days.” Jon gestures to the middle of the room, trying not to look irritated.

“I’m sorry. And we had a Margaery crisis up front so I told Myrcella I’d take her cart back so she can help. She’s actually staying past her shift.” Sansa wheels the cart to its spot and grabs her own.

“How are you feeling?” Jon doesn’t look at her as he asks her this. He’s not sure if she wants to be reminded of what happened.

“Um, much better, thank you. And thank you for the soup. It was really good and did the trick. That and that half a bottle of Nyquil I apparently took. I don’t remember anything after you dropped me on my bed.” She has the grace to look a little sheepish.

“There wasn’t much to tell. You fell asleep before I could get the sweater off you. You know the one you tried to put on over your robe because you were determined to go into work?” He couldn’t resist.

“Oh my God, that’s why I was sweating when I woke up! That or my fever broke.” She has the grace to blush this time.

Jon look at her and she meets his eyes. Then he looks away and clears his throat. “Anyway, uh, Petyr wants those books on display today. Apparently, Ellen mentioned them on her show and you know what that means.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, ok. I’ll do that right now.” She grabs the cart and carefully wheels it to the door. She turns around at the last minute.

“Jon, thanks again for the soup. And…you know…everything else.” Then she leaves.

Jon drops his pen in amazement. _What just happened? Did we actually have a civil conversation?_

*

After she shelves, she goes back to the front to check on Margaery. On the way she is waylaid by a student asking about the Cliffs Notes version for a required book for school. _Cliffs Notes – seriously? You’re supposed to actually read the book_. Another customer wants to know why there are so many different versions of the Bible (“In my day, there was one, The King James Bible.”) _Ugh, why was it so hard for people to realize that times do actually change?_

When she gets back to the café, Margaery is behind the counter, tying on her apron with a look of determination on her face.

“Feeling better?” Sansa approaches her with care.

“Well, feeling something. I don’t know if it’s better. I’m on strike. I’m wiping men out of my life. Washing them out of my hair.” Margaery looks at her defiantly.

“Okaaaayyyy….”

“I’m serious, I’m through. They are attracted to me like moths to a flame but they never last long enough. Then one comes along who does and he’s married!” She brushes a tear and sets her face. “I can’t win.”

“Excuse me, miss? I’d like to order something to drink?” Sansa turns around and after a beat, steps aside to let the customer reach the counter. She waits nervously for Margaery’s reaction.

Margaery, always ready with a retort, even though it’s obviously frowned upon in retail, whips around to look at the customer. Standing in front of her is a gentleman. An obviously young gentleman. He has curly auburn hair, deep blue eyes like a snowy night and a questioning expression on his face. Margery’s mouth opens and closes like a trap.

“Um…uh…what can I get you?” She wipes her hands on her apron to cover her reaction.

“I’d like a grande half caf mocha latte, please.”

A beat. “Would you like extra whip?”

“Of course.”

Margaery’s mouth opens once again and she steps back from the counter. “Oh, uh…I’ll have to get Myrcella to make that for you. She makes the best ones. MYRCELLA!” She bolts for the back.

Sansa, having watched the whole interaction, shakes her head and says under her breath, “Uh huh, on strike? Yeah, ok.” She walks back to her section.


	16. A Long-awaited Reply

Sansa is just getting ready to lock the front door and do a sweep of the store when the phone rings.

“Reed and Wull Books & Gifts, this is Sansa.”

A very soft voice on the other end says, “do you have any books on coprophilia?”

“I’m sorry what?” Sansa can’t quite make out what the guy is saying.

“Co-pro-phil-i-a. It’s when you like feces and sex.”

Sansa holds the phone away from her ear and stares at it, sure that it’s a prank call. Some stupid high school or middle school boy with way to many words in his vocabulary is trying to embarrass her. She plays along.

“Let me look that up for you. I’m going to put you on hold.” She pages the store. “Somebody come to the front of the store please.”

Both Petyr and Sam come over to the registers.

“What’s up?” Sam looks at her face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Do either of you know what coprophilia is?” Sansa whispers it very loudly.

“Coprophilia? Well let’s see, philia means love or sex and…..” Sam is trying to recall the Greek and Latin endings he learned in his high school etymology class.

“It’s a fetish about getting off on shit.” Petyr doesn’t miss a beat. Sam and Sansa just look at him. “What? You didn’t know that?” He is truly surprised.

“Uh, no, can’t say that I’ve ever heard…..” Sam’s voice trails away and his cheeks flush.

“Should we be concerned that you do?” _Of course, he would know about something as gross as that. _“Anyway, there’s a guy on the phone that asked if we had any books on it. What do I tell him?”

“Well, are there any?” Petyr loves catching Sansa in this embarrassing moment. “Did you look it up?”

“No, I wasn’t sure what to do. Are there any?” _If he knows the word, he’s probably looked for titles too. Ewww._

“I asked you first. Just do a cursory search and tell him. You better hurry, he’s ringing back.” Petyr gestures to the phone which is beeping to remind them someone’s on hold.

“God, okay. I don’t even know how to spell it.” Sansa goes to the computer. “Is it with a ‘c’ or a ‘k’?

“’C’. Sound it out, Sansa. Just like your teacher told you to do in 4th grade spelling.” Petyr looks at her with creepy exasperation.

“Ugh. OK…” She types in what she thinks is a close enough spelling to pull something, anything up. “Well, the only place it pops up is in the DSM. Go figure.” She takes the phone off hold. “Sir, I’m sorry we don’t have anything about copro---- what you described.”

“Oh, ok then. What about…” Sansa slams the phone down. “I am not going to continue that conversation." Petyr looks at her reproachfully. "What? He was going to ask about something else that I’m sure is equally repulsive.”

“Now, Sansa, you don’t know that. He might have wanted urolagnia…” Petyr smiles that know-at-all smile at her.

“Necrophilia….” Sam can’t resist adding on and winks.

Sansa puts her hands over her ears. “All right, already! Stop! I do not need an education in fetishes and I’m really disturbed that you two know the official terminology. Can we just get out of here? Please?”

“Yep. Time to go home.” Sam turns the lights off.

**

Sansa puts her key in her mailbox and opens it slowly. There is something there! _Please, please let it be a letter!_ She pulls it out and immediately knows it’s from him. _Thank God. Maybe I can salvage something from that horrible night._

As soon as she gets in the door she drops her coat, keys, purse right where she stands and runs over to the sofa. She’s not even going to torture herself with her usual delayed gratification. She carefully opens the envelope and pulls the letter out. It’s two pages and doesn’t even start with the usual “Dear Penpal.”

_I’m so sorry._

_I never meant to stand you up last week. Just as I came around the corner of the restaurant I got a 911 page from my boss. I took the call and he told me I had to catch the next train out of town to our affiliate company and handle an emergency. I thought about coming in the restaurant and meeting you anyway, but I really didn’t want our first time to be so rushed. That’s not how I wanted it to be at all._

_(It sounds like he still wants meet, maybe?)_

_I really wanted it to be special. I would walk into the restaurant and look around and then see you. I’d know it was you even before looking for the book on the table. I don’t know how I would know, I would just be able to tell. Then you would look up and see me and you would know right away too. We would smile at each other and I would make my way over and ask you, “Is this seat taken?” to which you would answer, “Why no, sir, please sit down.” Then we would kind of laugh and I would take your hand and kiss it and say, “I’m so glad we’re finally meeting one another. Now I don’t have to wonder what you look like. I know that you look like exactly what I’ve pictured all these months reading your letters.”_

_(Be still my heart)_

_But since I couldn’t do that, I decided to leave. I knew I would write you and apologize and ask for your forgiveness. Can you please forgive me? I know I don’t deserve it but I’m hoping for a second chance and this time I will turn my phone off the minute I leave work. _

_You pick the time. We can meet at the Eyrie again, if you like. It looked very cozy from the outside._

_Please?_

_Your Penpal_

Sansa held the letter to her chest and breathed a huge sigh of relief. There really was a reason he didn’t come. _It wasn’t because he got cold feet or saw me with Jon_. _ I have to write him back right away and tell him all is forgiven. _

She jumps up and grabs her stationery and her pen.

_Dear Penpal,_

_You are forgiven. _

_I’m so glad you wrote me and told me what happened. I was so worried I wouldn’t hear from you. I thought maybe you got cold feet and decided you weren’t ready for this._

_Let’s meet in a week at the same place. If you would, please just drop me a line saying you got this letter and you’ll be there. _

_Looking forward to a second chance,_

_Your Penpal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, that phone call really happened. A co-worker of mine actually put it in her Christmas letter about crazy things that happen at a bookstore.


	17. Meanwhile, back at the ranch

Jon pulls his hood up on his jacket and dashes from his car to the back door. It is pouring. It has been pouring since late yesterday afternoon. Welcome to November. He fishes out his keys and unlocks the door and turns on the lights. He steps inside to a disaster.

“Shit! What the hell?” He walks, or tip toes through water that almost comes up over his boots. He looks back outside before he shuts the door. _Seriously, we got that much rain? I’m going to have to call Petyr. This is so going to ruin my day. _

He steps out into the back hallway and sees the line of demarcation between wet carpet and dry just outside the manager’s office. He squishes his way to the office and goes in. On the wall are all the emergency numbers of the staff. Not wanting to call on the phone in the back while he’s standing in an inch of water, he grabs the phone from the manager’s desk and dials Petyr’s number.

“Hello?” Petyr answers the phone sleepily. _Why does he always sound like he’s just had sex? _Having heard about the weird fetish phone call and that Petyr knew the answer, it could go both ways.

“Petyr, it’s Jon. Uh, we have a problem. The stock room is flooded.” He waits for the reaction.

“You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.” _Now he sounds more alert._

“Believe me, I wouldn’t kid about something like this. I guess we got a lot more rain overnight than the pump can handle.”

“Well, do you think we can still open? We’ll obviously have to call someone to dry it out.”

“Uh, yeah. The water only goes to just outside the manager’s office. Hopefully it won’t go any further.”

“Well, look online for any company that might be able to do the trick. I don’t know if it should be a plumber, a basement guy, or if we just end up using a vac ourselves. I’m on my way in.” Petyr hangs up.

_You mean I’ll be using a shop vac. You would never dirty your hands sucking up water with a shop vac. Never. _Jon hangs up the phone and goes over to the computer and googles “flooding.”

**

An hour later, the basement company is busy at work getting rid of the water in the stockroom and working on the carpet in the hallway. Jon can’t do a thing until it’s safe to turn on his computer. Luckily there were no filled v-carts and everything was off the floor already. He had made sure of that when he first started working there. Having lived in a house with a basement that continually flooded, he knew that only plastic should be kept on the floor.

Petyr told him to do some zoning for returns while he’s waiting so he’s in the Teens Fantasy section scanning and pulling out titles that will either be pitched or go back to the publisher. Some of the titles he remembers from when he was a teenager and he shakes his head. _Did I really read all this crap? What was I thinking? _He pulls a copy of _Cirque du Freak _and flips through it. _Boy, this takes me back a few years. _ He starts skimming the page he opened to.

“Reliving the glory days of high school?” He jumps as Sansa grabs the book from him. _“Cirque du Freak, _huh? I would have thought you were more of a _Zen and the Art of Faking It _kind of reader. Or maybe _Hunger Games_?”

“Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Jon grabs the book back from her. “I’m stuck out here zoning and I was just looking at the copyright. I can’t believe how long some of these books have been on the shelves. And they’re still popular.” He puts the book on the cart. “You were probably a Meg Cabot or Margaret Peterson Haddix acolyte, am I right?” He grins at her.

“Actually, I did like Haddix. Her _Found_ series was right up my alley. Time travel and history. Can’t go wrong there.” She stops and looks at him. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Wait, what are you doing out here? And why are you zoning my section?” She narrows her eyes and pins him down.

“Have you seen the stockroom? There’s about two inches of water in there and I can’t do anything until they get it swept out or sucked up or whatever the basement people are doing back there. So Petyr has me zoning.”

“So that’s why the carpet was wet by the break room! I thought maybe a toilet overflowed in the men’s bathroom.” She laughs. Then stops when she sees him glaring back at her.

“Oh, I guess that’s not really very funny. Kind of sucks to be you, though.” She looks at him a little more sympathetically.

Jon runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “Yeah, I’d much rather be out here answering questions about corpophilia and dealing with ankle biters running all over the place.”

Sansa punches his shoulder. “It’s COPROphilia, thank you very much. Yeah, I get the winners, don’t I?” All of a sudden she looks down at her feet, kind of caught in an awkward moment.

“So…”

“I better get back…”

“…have you heard from your penpal? Did he write like he said he would?” Jon looks at her and for a brief moment remembers that she’s his penpal, too.

“Actually, yes. He wrote a really nice apology explaining the whole being called out of town emergency situation and wants to try to meet again next week.” Jon detects a little glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t make a liar of me,” Jon clears his throat and picks up his PDT and starts scanning books again.

“No, no he didn’t.” With not really anything else to say, Sansa turns and goes back to the Newbery Award display.

_No he didn’t. _

*

Later that night, Sansa picks up what she hopes is a note from him confirming their meeting. It is exactly what she hoped for.

_Dear Penpal,_

_I’ll be there._

_Eagerly waiting,_

_Your Penpal_


	18. The Care and Keeping of Margaery Tyrell

Every day for the last three days “Mocha Latte, Half Caf, Extra Whip” has been coming into the store. If Margaery is not there, he buys a bestseller and leaves. If she is there he orders what is now his “usual” from the café. Margaery is unsurprisingly reticent about engaging him in conversation, but he pulls info out of her like he’s her therapist. By the second day, he knows her name, where she’s from, that she went to school for art, and that she does tattoos on the side. All she knows is his name is Robb, and that’s only because Myrcella put his name on the cup.

One day, he comes in and finds out Margaery’s not working. He pays for his book and starts to leave when Myrcella flags him down and beckons him to the café.

“Hey, Myrcella. What’s up?”

“Got a minute? I’ll make you a free one.” She picks up a cup.

“For you, I got all the time in the world, kiddo.” He winks at her.

After she hands him his latte, she comes out from behind the counter. “Come here and sit down with me for a second.” She goes to a table and pulls out a chair for him and sits across from him.

“Okay….should I be concerned? Is it Margaery? Is there something wrong? She’s not sick or anything?” He starts to look worried.

“Oh no, no, no. She’s fine. I just want to get some things out in the open. You see, Margaery is like a big sister to me and if you like her that’s great, but if you hurt her…” Myrcella looks at him very seriously.

“Hurt her? Why would I hurt her?” Robb is truly shocked at the thought. “I’ve barely gotten to know her. We’re still at the getting to know you stage.” He nervously picks up his drink and takes a sip.

“Yes and that is precisely what I want to talk to you about. You know a lot about Margaery, but you’ve given her precious little information about yourself. That stops right now.” She pulls out a pad of paper and the pencil from behind her ear.

_Oh no. _ He looks chastened.

“Last name?”

“Tully.”

“Education?”

“MBA.”

“Age?”

“35.”

“Where do you live?”

“In town.”

“House or apartment?”

“Townhouse.”

“Own or rent?”

“Own.”

“What do you do?”

“I own my own company.”

“Where’s your office?”

“I work from home.”

“Car?”

“Prius.”

“Own or lease?”

“Lease.”

“Married?”

“Was.”

“What happened?”

“She died.”

“Sorry. How long ago?”

“Three years.”

Kids?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Go back to my answer for question 12.”

_Clever, this one._ Myrcella relaxes.

“Do I pass?”

“One last question.”

“Shoot.”

“What are your intentions with Margaery?”

“Why the 4-1-1?”

“I’m her friend. It’s my job.”

“I like her. A lot. She’s different. I need different. So, did I pass?” He sips his latte again.

“Buddy, you passed the first day you walked in here and ordered that drink.” She looks at his cup.

“Oh? Why?”

“Because that’s exactly what she orders.”

Robb’s eyes widen and then grins broadly. Mycella returns the grin and puts out her hand. Robb shakes it and winks at her. “Cheers!” He mock toasts her and takes another drink.

“Myrcella, I really like her. I was devastated when my wife died. We’d been married four years and we were just starting to think about a family. It’s been three years, and I decided that I couldn’t hide forever. I need to get back in the mix. I’m only 35, as you now know; my life’s hopefully not even half over. But you can get steamrolled by life and if that happens, I don’t want to be alone.”

By this time, Myrcella is trying not to cry. And failing. “Oh, come here you!” She stands up and pulls him up and gives him a hug. She pulls away and looks at him. “I don’t think you have to worry about being alone much longer,” she says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite possibly my favorite chapter. It wrote itself.
> 
> If you are wondering where the interrogation of Robb came from, I'm paying tribute to Uncle Buck. It's the seen between John Candy and Macauley Culkin. Classic.


	19. A Bookstore on the Cusp of the Holidays

After Halloween, holiday hell breaks loose. The music becomes all Christmas, all the time. No sooner is the Thanksgiving display up in Kids, then the Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa stuff starts rolling in and threatens to take over. Of course, there are the classics: five different versions of_ The Night Before Christmas_; _The Grinch that Stole Christmas _complete with its own plush Grinch, Max and the sled; and don’t forget the stories about the first Christmas, how Hanukkah came to be and how Kwanzaa got its name (spoiler alert: it means “first fruits).

And the plush (aka stuffed things). Dogs, bears, llamas, Santa Clauses, Mrs. Clauses, reindeer and elves all of which tend to make the department look like a soft bomb exploded by the end of the night.

Sansa loves Christmas. All of it. Even the customers who wait too late to order a gift, people who ask for a gift receipt after everything has been rung up and paid for, and the husbands asking about _Porn for Women _(a postcard book of men doing housework, cooking, laundry etc.) or any new cookbook that has just been released. She loves taking turns at the gift wrap stand set up for charities. She rolls her eyes when she looks at the gift wrap schedule and there is a note saying Cat Welfare will take all open slots. It’s an exhausting, intense but short period of time where everyone is happy and saying “Happy Thanksgiving,” Merry Christmas,” and “Happy Holidays.”

One of the best things about the holidays is the book drive. Every year, the clerks ask customers to purchase a children’s book that will be wrapped and personalized for a child at an at-risk elementary school. Before school gets out for winter break, a couple of the workers load up a car and take all the gifts over and help distribute them. For the past couple of years, Sansa has spearheaded this campaign and takes no prisoners when it comes to donations. She pleads, begs, browbeats and guilts everyone on the staff to donate and doesn’t hesitate to turn on the charm with customers. Most of the time they bite and buy one or two books along with all their purchases.

Today, however, is not about the holidays. Gilly, Margaery, Sansa and Myrcella are standing in Petyr’s office, livid because he won’t fire creepy Dontos, a seasonal employee who has taken a page out of Petyr’s book and is always a little too close for comfort.

“Now ladies, what has the poor boy done to make you so upset?” Petyr really doesn’t want to fire him at this time of year. He doesn’t have time to train a seasonal employee.

“He came up behind me and smelled my hair and told me it smelled like lilacs,” Gilly shudders at the memory.

“He wanted to rub my shoulders,” Sansa says. “And he said he would hold the ladder for me any time I need to reach the top shelf in the stockroom. He only offers on the days I wear a skirt or a dress.”

Margaery tops them all. “He cornered me behind the café and asked me to steam some milk for him. And he did not mean the 2%. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“He just winks at me all the time and calls me “Myrcie”. As if. He is so sleazy.” Myrcella knows he goes easy on her because she’s jailbait.

Petyr shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I completely sympathize with you. But I can’t fire him until January. We just don’t have the staff to cover his shifts. The best I can do is make sure he’s not working when you are. That shouldn’t be too hard, since you all seem to work similar hours.” He gives them a beleaguered “I’m so put upon” expression that no one believes is real for a second.

“Well, put it on the record that we complained about him, so when he does something really horrible, we can all say we told you so.” Margaery flips her ponytail and leaves in a huff. Myrcella follows suit.

“Gilly, will you go over the schedule for the next month and see what you can do about him?” Petyr looks at her over his half glasses. Sansa is pretty sure he only wears them to appear respectable.

“Sure. But I stand by what Margaery says about ‘I told you so.’ He will rue the day he gets up close and personal with me again.” She goes to the outer office and grabs the chart with the schedule.

Petyr turns his eyes on Sansa, who is placing a special order of books for required reading.

“So Sansa, that appointment you had, a couple of weeks ago, right before you got sick, remember? How did it go?” Petyr hasn’t had much contact with her since the holidays started and wants to see if he can make her a little uncomfortable, given what he read in the letter he found.

She doesn’t bite, though. “It was ok. I had to get a tune up on my car and I needed to make arrangements for a ride. My ride could only do it that day.” She knew someday he would get around to asking her so she was ready with a cover story.

“Really? But you were so dressed up, I thought maybe you had a date? And then you were sick for the next couple of days, if I recall.” He knows he’s starting to cross the line, but he can’t help himself.

_NO. There’s NO way he knows. He can’t. The other girls would never say anything. Unless…would Jon have let something slip? _Even as awkward as they are towards each other, there hasn’t been any outright hostility for a while. And she knows he feels the same way about Petyr. She saw it when he talked to her about the flooding in the back.

“A date? Are you kidding? I have no time to date. I’m trying to graduate this semester, remember?” She had to change her schedule to work in the evening during the week so she could do her student teaching.

“Oh right, right. Of course, I remember.” Petyr has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Well, remember when you said you would owe me one, when you asked to leave early?”

_Uh oh. Now I understand. He’s calling in his favor. Crap. _“Of course, I do, Petyr. And I am so grateful that you let me off that day. I really was in a bind with my car.”

“Well, I think I have a way you can pay me back.” He looks just a little smug. “I want you to plan an American Girl event for next Friday. We need to have something to promote the new doll and I’ve been given the OK to raffle one off.”

Sansa tries not to make her sigh of relief obvious. “Wow, I thought you were going to make me train Dontos in Kids, or something.”

“No, no no,” Petyr chuckles. “The further away from Kids we can keep him, the better. I would never do anything like that to you.” _Yeah, right. You wish you were the one holding the ladder while I climb up. This I can do._

“Ok, sure. I’ll make some flyers and take them to the local elementary schools. I’m sure the chance to win the newest American Girl doll will bring a bunch of girls in. We can make it a tea party with mini cupcakes and tea from the café.” She is actually getting excited about this. “Should we do it right after school?”

“I was thinking more of like 6 pm. Most parents are home by then and more should be able to come at that time.” Petyr steeples his fingers and waits for Sansa to register this.

_Oh shit. That’s the night. What the hell am I going to do? We are supposed to meet at 8. This party won’t be cleaned up before then. Shit, shit, shit._

“Is something wrong, Sansa? You look a little upset. It’s short notice, I know, but you can do it.”

“Uh, no, of course not. It will be fine. But, can I have the girls work with me that night so we can get everything cleaned up quickly? It could end up being like the nights whenever a new Harry Potter books comes out.” She crosses her fingers.

Petyr frowns. “I suppose so. Of course, I’ll be there, so I can help out as well. I’ll see what the schedule looks like.”

Well, that was the best she could hope for. She did not dare tell him she had a conflict. On a Friday night of all nights. He’d know for sure it was a date and then he would not leave her alone.

“Thanks, Petyr. I’ll start planning right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everything that Dontos did happened to me. But he did smell my hair. That's where I drew the line.


	20. The Tea

Aside from the usual holiday snafus – orders not coming in, the usual employees calling off at the last minute, and crappy weather, the week of the American Girls Tea is pretty relaxed. Sansa has everything ordered and organized: extra tea is ready to be made, the doll to be raffled is up front and center next to a big cookie jar partially filled with pink slips of paper representing little girls’ hopes and dreams with each name that is dropped in.

Sansa goes to the nearby elementary schools and dropped off colorful fliers promoting the event and the raffle. Everyone she talks to say the girls will be so excited to go to a real tea and the possibility of winning a coveted American Girl doll is just icing on the cake.

She continues to persuade customers to donate books for the book drive. It does not escape her that she is in the middle of an economic dichotomy. On the one hand, she is hosting a tea for what some would call entitled little princesses. Their families could afford to buy 2-3 American Girl dolls and yet the no one wanted to pass up the opportunity of winning a free one. On the other hand, she is pleading with some of the same parents to buy a couple of $3 and $4 books to donate so a child across town could enjoy quite possibly the only present they might get. It bothers her, but she doesn’t know what to do about it.

So instead of trying to solve the problems of an unjust world, she counts down the days and hours until the day of attempt #2 to meet her penpal.

Finally the day dawns. Sansa dresses carefully, knowing she won’t have time to change and she’s glad she can wear the same dress that evening that she’ll wear for the tea.

At 6 pm, young girls start drifting into the store with their mothers. Coming in mostly in pairs or groups, they are dressed up in party dresses and fancy shoes. All of them go over to the doll on display and ooh and aah over it. The doll is Mary Ellen and she is one of the historical dolls, dating from 1954. She was a polio survivor and experiences the fear and uncertainty of the Cold War.

Sansa directs the girls to the café, where the tables have been set up with tea and cupcakes. They all scramble to find seats with their friends as the mothers gather by the magazines to watch. She leads the girls in a lively discussion about who their favorite doll is and why and asks them what they know about Mary Ellen. Answers of _Kit, Kirsten, Josefina, Addy, Samantha_ can be heard all throughout the store. It seems almost every girls has at least one doll and a lot of the books.

In the midst of this controlled chaos, in walks Robb. He is taken aback that the normally quiet café has transformed into buzzing, chattering bistro for about 60 little girls. Seeing Sansa, he makes a beeline for her.

“What’s going on? Did I miss something?” He queries her.

“Oh, this? This was a last minute event dreamed up by Petyr to boost sales. It’s an American Girl tea.”

“America…what?” Robb obviously has no idea what she is talking about.

“It’s a doll. The company started about 20 years ago and created these historical dolls that focus on a specific time in American history. It’s such a good way to get girls interested in history; but the company probably makes most of its money on it “Doll of the Year” and the dolls you can specify to make exactly like yourself. They even have a boy doll now. You know, just in case you don’t want to feel left out.” She winks at him.

“Yeah, no, I think I’m a little old now.” Robb plays along.

“Margaery and Myrcella have been so excited about this event. Myrcella still has her dolls. She says she’s saving them for when she’s a mother and can pass them down.”

“Speaking of Margaery, I think I’ll go see what she’s up to. Besides pouring tea of course.” Robb makes the drinking a cup of tea gesture, complete with pink finger.

When he gets to the café, he finds the two of them in heated conversation. “What are you too chattering about?” He hugs Myrcella and kisses Margaery on the cheek. They’ve yet to go on a real date, but they’ve spent a lot of time getting to know one another in the café. 

“Margaery thinks Kit’s the best of the dolls and I say it’s Addy.” Myrcella explains.

“Well, how about if you tell me your rationale behind the doll and as an impartial judge and, up till now, ignorant male, I’ll referee. Margaery, you first.” He takes off his overcoat and sits at a table next to the counter.

“Well, I never actually had a doll. But if I did with would be Kit. She grows up during the Depression. Her father loses his job and he actually has to leave Cincinnati and go to Chicago to find work. Her mother takes in boarders to make some money and Kit actually wears a dress made from a flour sack. She was introduced back in 2000 but they made a movie that came out in 2008, right when the recession hit. My dad had lost his job that year. I completely identified with Kit.” Margaery crosses her arms and looks away so no one can see the emotion that suddenly appears.

“Wow, I had no idea. She really did make an impact.” Myrcella touches her arm in sympathy. “But my girl was the first African American AG doll. It was 1864 and her father and brother were sold so she escaped with her mother to Phildelphia and hopes to reunite with her family eventually. She was my first doll. Everyone tried to talk me into wanting Felicity or Kirsten or Molly. But I wanted Addy.”

“Why?” Robb is really interested in the effect these dolls have had on them.

“I think because it was so hard to believe that America had slaves at one point and her story somehow made it real.” Myrcella looks at him earnestly. “I mean you can visit battlefields and monuments, but until you hear the stories from people who were actually involved…. I mean, not that Addy is real, but, well you know what I mean.”

“Hmmm, I’m going to have to think about this.” Robb rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe with a cup of tea and a cupcake?” He looks at Margaery. “If there are any left, of course.”

“If it helps you pick Kit, I’ll make you a whole pot.” Margaery gives Myrcella a triumphant look and goes to the counter.

“I should have known better than to think you’d be a fair judge.” Myrcella huffs.

“I’m not saying a thing until I’ve had my nourishment," Robb laughs.

**

After he finishes his tea, he quietly goes over to the stand where the doll is. The cookie jar is almost overflowing with names of hopeful winners. He picks up the book that is next to it and flips through the pages. _This really is quite a phenomenon. _

**

Time for the drawing. All of the staff and parents are crowded around the café waiting for the announcement of the winner. There’s actually two – one for the set of books and one for the doll. Sansa drags it out as long as she can and finally picks a name. A little girl with blond curls and a huge bow in her hair jumps up excitedly to claim her prize.

Sansa reaches in for the second name. When she reads it to herself, she suddenly looks around the room as if she’s looking for someone in particular. When she sees who she’s looking for she gives a small smile.

“We have an unusual winner, young ladies and moms. It’s one Robb Stark.” She looks at him expectantly as he comes forward with a complete look of surprise on his face. The girls all look at him somewhat confused.

“But he’s a guy.”

“Guys don’t like dolls.”

“I heard there’s an Amercian Girl boy doll, you know?”

“Maybe he has a little girl that he wants to give it to.”

By the time Robb reaches Sansa, she has removed the doll from the case and presents it to him.

“Do you want to say anything, Robb? I’m sure these girls would love to know why a man entered the drawing.” She winks at him.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “Honestly, girls, until I walked in the store today and saw all this hoopla, I had no idea what an American Girl was or the impact theses dolls have had on so many people. I don’t have a daughter at home, but I do know someone who never had a doll and so at the last minute I threw my name in the jar. Never in a million years did I think it would get picked.” He takes the doll and walks over to the counter. Margaery is looking at him dumbfounded.

“Margaery, your explanation of Kit’s story and how it paralleled your experience at the time really affected me. I think everyone should have an American Girl doll and I want you to have Mary Ellen.” He holds to the doll out to her and she looks at him with tears in her eyes. She takes the doll and cradles it.

“This is proof that dreams really can come true, girls! Maybe a few years later than you think, but it can still happen.” She looks up at Robb.

The whole room practically swoons at the gesture and no one appears to be upset that a 35-year-old man won the doll. One woman says if her husband had done that for her, she wouldn’t have made him take her to Cabo every year for Valentine’s Day.

“Kiss her, kiss her!” The girls start chanting and Robb willingly obliges.

Sansa is standing by the display trying to remain calm and professional when she really just wants to yell for joy. “God I’m so happy for her.”

“Me too.” Sansa jumps and turns around to see Jon standing right behind her.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I said that out loud.” She looks at him and thinks there is something different about him, but she can’t put her finger on it. “You heard about their little friendship? It’s like something from a Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks movie. Myrcella has been their little chaperone slash matchmaker.” Myrcella is hugging Margaery and Robb.

“Yeah, that’s one for the romance section of the store. Need any help cleaning up?” The girls and mothers start to leave the café, some to shop and some to go home. All the girls come up to Sansa and say thank you for the tea and the mothers want to be notified the minute another doll comes up for grabs. Sansa basks in the success of the event. She glances over to the main register where Petyr has actually been working. He gives her a nod and then winks at her. _Uggh, he just ruined it._

“He’s so weird.” Jon rolls his eyes as he starts clearing tables.

“That’s one way to put it.” Sansa says goodbye to the last girl/mom combination and lets out a sigh. _I think that was successful. I can’t believe Robb did that for Margaery. They so belong together. _She looks at her watch and sees it’s 7:15. Her heart skips a beat. She looks around and sees Jon sweeping the floor and realizes why he looks different. She starts to ask him why he’s not in his usual hoodie, jeans and boots when the front door bangs open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, the American Girl event really happened. Not the raffle or a man winning the doll, but the tea was real. I do not own American Girl.
> 
> Second, sorry for the cliffhanger. At least I'm not going to make you wait for it. :)


	21. What the hell just happened?

“SANSA STARK!!! Where are you!” Sansa looks towards the door and freezes. Joffrey Baratheon is standing in the entrance with a murderous look in his eye.

“Joffrey? What are you….” She can’t move. Three years. Three years of recovering, rebuilding, reinventing herself. _Why does it feel like the edges are crumbling? Where is that hole in the floor that is supposed to open up and save me from this man?_

“You bitch! You slut! You were two-timing me?! What were you doing, leaving me after a date and going off to screw someone else? My mother was right. I never should have dated you. You’ve humiliated me!” He approaches her and is shaking something in his hand.

Sansa grips the edge of the table and holds on for dear life. Jon drops the broom and moves towards her; Margaery and Robb turn at the commotion and get up as well. Myrcella comes out from the back of the café wiping her hands on a towel. Gilly, Sam and even creepy Dontos all gravitate towards Sansa.

Only Petyr stays at the register, finishing up with a customer while looking over towards the café with a curious look of concerned smugness.

“I want everyone to know what a heartless little witch you are. This woman, while dating me was carrying on an affair with some other unsuspecting asshole. I have the proof right here!” He holds up what’s in his hand.

“What are you talking about?” Sansa finds her voice, but it is small and soft. She can’t quite register what he is saying. It’s like he’s talking in a foreign language. “I never…”

“Liar! It’s all right here.” He starts reading, imitating a little girl’s voice. “ _‘I have to admit that I have been wanting to meet you for some time. Given what you’ve told me, I decided to wait for you to make the first move. I didn’t want to pressure you or scare you away.’ _Does that sound familiar?” Joffrey practically spits in her face. “You little whore! No wonder you were frigid with me – you were getting it on with some cocksucker behind my back.”

“Where did you get that?” Sansa points to the crumpled up piece of special stationery in his hand.

“It doesn’t matter where I got it. You obviously wanted to rendezvous with him and he agreed. How many times, Sansa? How many times did you fuck him?” He throws the letter in her face and waits for an answer.

“Joffrey, it’s not what you think….” All of a sudden she is seeing stars and her faces hurts like a bitch.

“Don’t lie to me you sniveling, conniving little piece of trash. I’ll make sure everyone….” He doesn’t finish because he is pushed to the ground. Jon tackles him, straddles him and starts punching him in the face. His eyes are dark and dangerous.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Hit. A woman. Again.” Jon emphasizes each word with a punch then slowly stands up and shakes out his hand. He turns to Sansa. “Are you ok?” He turns her head to look at her cheek. “You need some ice. Hey Margaery! Need some help over here!”

“No, no I’m fine, I just need to sit down.” She cradles her cheek as Jon leads her over to a table. She still has the letter crumpled up in her fist.

Margaery comes running over with a bag of ice and gives it to Sansa. “Robb called 911. He swung first, right?” She gestures over to Joffrey who is out cold.

“He hit her hard,” Jon says with disgust. "I don’t care what she may have done, you don’t hit a woman.”

Robb walks up to the table. “Police are on their way. Nice job by the way. I’m Robb.” He looks at Jon’s hand. “I’d shake your hand but you’re going to need some ice, too, from the looks of it.”

Jon clenched and unclenched his hand and hissed at the effort. “Yeah, probably going to hamper my job for a while. I’m Jon. Nice to meet you. Too bad it had to be under these circumstances.”

“No kidding. He’s a total dick. I’ve known Joffrey since I moved here. If he didn’t have the parents he has, he'd be in prison by now."

“Of course, if he didn’t have the parents he has, he might have actually amounted to something.” They both laugh. Joffrey starts to come to and struggles to sit up.

“Whoa, you stay right there. You’re not going anywhere.” Robb goes over to him and pushes him back down to the floor. "Police are on their way.”

“They better be. I want that punk behind bars." He shakes his head and recognizes Robb. "What are you doing here? And where’s Sansa? I’m not done with her yet.” Joffrey checks his mouth and sees blood on his hand. “I’m fucking bleeding!”

“Slumming I guess.” He winks at Margaery to let her in on the joke. “Oh, yes, you are. They aren’t coming for him, they’re coming for you. Dude, you slugged Sansa.” Robb’s eyes harden as he stares at Joffrey, making sure he doesn’t try to sit up again. “You’re going to the station.”

At that moment the police come in, take statements and handcuff Joffrey and lead him out. He’s yelling for Sansa the whole time. One of the cops stops and threatens to gag him if he doesn’t shut up.

Sansa closes her eyes while she holds the ice on her face. _Shit, what time is it? Oh no. It’s 7:45. I’m going to miss our meeting. Joffrey just keeps figuring how to ruin my life. There’s no way this is going to work out. _Her eyes fill up with tears and she puts her head on the table.

Margaery comes over to her and sits down. “Hey, sweetie, are you going to be ok?”

“I’m going to miss seeing him again, Marg. This is it, it’s all over.” She sniffles.

“Don’t say that, you don’t know that.”

“Yes I do, I have shitty luck with men. The ones that don’t want me hurt me and the ones I might have a chance with, I never meet.” A fresh batch of tears flow down her cheeks. “Where’s Jon? I need to thank him for what he did. If he hadn’t stepped in, I think I would have looked a lot worse.”

“Hey Jon!” Margaery sees him talking to Robb and Sam. When he sees her, she tilts her head to indicate for him to come over to the table.

As he gets to the table, Margaery gets up and gestures for him to sit down. “She wants to tell you something.”

Sansa looks up and all of a sudden is at a loss for words. She takes a deep breath and thinks for a minute.

“Thanks for what you did. No one’s ever stood up for me before.” She grabs his hand and he winces. “Ooh, sorry. Let me see that.” She opens his hand flat and looks at the abrasions on his knuckles that just stopped bleeding. “You better get that disinfected.”

“I could say the same for you, you know.” He smiles at her. “Well, look at that – we are sitting down actually having a civil conversation." He sees the letter still clutched in her hand. “What’s the story? I'm sorry, if you don’t want to tell me, don’t.” He knows the story anyway.

She spreads the letter out on the table in front of her. “You know about the penpal. Well, we’ve been writing back and forth for about 6 months. Joffrey and I broke up 3 years ago. There’s no way he could have thought this was happening while we were dating. Look at the date.” She points to the top of the letter.

“It’s dated September 23, 20…. Wait, that looks like Wite Out. That’s supposed to be 19, but it was changed to 16. Someone gave this letter to him on purpose!”

“How do you think he got a hold of it? Surely someone didn’t break into your place and steal it?”

Sansa thinks. “Oh my God. This was in my locker tucked in a book! Someone went through my locker and found it. But why?”

“Someone jealous, maybe?” _God, I hope she doesn’t think it was me. Shit._

All of a sudden, her eyes widen with a sudden realization. Jon pulls back, thinking she’s going to accuse him. But she doesn’t.

“Petyr Baelish, where the hell are you and why did you break into my locker!” She stands up a little shakily and looks around to see if he is still at the register. He is not. “Sam! Go back and see if Petyr is in the office or the stockroom or anywhere in this fucking building! He’s got some explaining to do!”

Sansa starts to pace and she is livid. “You suggested someone jealous, right?” She looks at Jon.

He stammers, “Uh, yeah. Maybe?” _Where is this going?_

“It had to be Petyr. How could I have been so stupid!” Now she’s wringing her hands, ready for a fight. Jon visibly relaxes. _Thank God. _

“Sansa, he’s not anywhere in the store. I think he hightailed it out of here when the police came,” Sam comes back from the stockroom and is out of breath.

“That little weasel! This is something right up his alley.” She sits back down, dejected. Everyone is looking at her expectantly. “Okay. Petyr is an old friend of my mom’s. They go way back and it seems he has carried a torch for her ever since. He would always ask me about her or reminisce about the two of them. I thought it was just his weird way of connecting with me.”

“But how would he have known about Joffrey? You only told me. And your penpal.” Margaery looks confused.

“I never told him about Joffrey. My mother must have.” A new look of disgust appears. “She was pissed when I broke up with him. Maybe she wanted Petyr back in her life so she did it through me.” Then a new look of horror. “Holy crap! She wanted him to get with me!” Sansa gets up abruptly. “That’s it, I’m going to go have a talk with her.”

Everyone starts talking at once.

“Wait a minute…”

“What!?”

“Sansa, you can’t.”

This is not a good idea and everybody knows it. She starts to walk away from the table, but Jon catches her wrist. “Don’t go yet.”

She turns and looks at him. This fragile détente they have discovered is hanging in the air waiting for her to shatter it or acquiesce. She acquiesces.

Everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief.

She looks at him and then back down at the letter. Then it hits her again that the door slammed shut on her chance. She is stricken as she sits down. Jon is not sure what to do next. _I’ve got to say something, but how? If I could write it out, it would be fine. Think, idiot! This is your chance!_

Ultimately, she saves him.

“Can I read you the letter? We were supposed to meet tonight. After the party. It was going to be our second attempt. But now I’ve missed it and probably lost him even as a penpal.” She can’t believe she’s spilling her guts to him.

“Of course, you can read it. I’d like that.” Jon holds his breath.

She starts from the beginning. _“Dear Penpal, Fat chick with 80s hair, huh? At least your friend suggested that I had an English Lit degree….” _ She continues through the part that Joffrey read out loud and finishes:

_“Forget I said any of that last paragraph. Do you want to meet around 8? I’ll have on a winter coat…”_

_“… and a fraternity pin on the lapel. It’s not what you think. It’s the honorary fraternity for Humanities. I am not a frat boy. I look forward to this meeting. Breathlessly, Your Penpal.” _Sansa looks up as Jon finishes the letter for her.

Her eyes widen for a hot second in disbelief.

“It was you.” She says softly, afraid to break the moment. She takes a minute to let it sink in. “Now I know why you weren’t in your usual work clothes. Oh my God, all this time you knew? How long have you known?” She pins him with a look.

“Since the first attempt to meet. I’m so sorry – I saw you through the window sitting there with your book on the table and I was so shocked that I couldn’t go in. I went back to the bar I was at with Sam and he told me I needed to go right back there. So I did, but when I saw you in the restaurant, you looked so disappointed and I couldn’t disappoint you even more by telling you it was me.”

He looks down at his now bandaged hand, waiting for a response. Any response. No response. So, he plunges on. “I knew I had to fix it somehow, so when I found out you were sick two days later, I was worried that it was because of what didn’t happen. That’s why I came over. I was not spying on you, you have to believe me.” He hears a sniffle and dares to look up.

“That’s why you told me about the emergency trip out of town. You were trying to spare me. You saved my dignity at the restaurant, you know. I’m not sure how I would have been able to get up and leave if you hadn’t shown up. I’m sorry I was so nasty.” She wipes her nose. “But how do I know you’re really him?” She had to ask, even though she knew the answer.

“Ask me anything about the letters.” Jon threw down the gauntlet. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. He’d memorized them all.

“Why _Anne Frank_?”

God, he could drown in her eyes. “_Anne Frank talked about “thinking herself out” and wanting all the flowers to bloom at once:_

_ You know the most wonderful part about thinking yourself out? You can have it any way you like. You can have roses and violets and chrysanthemums all blooming at the same time._

_Anne Frank must have felt that way because she never knew if she would see the next bloom.”_

Before he even finishes, she grabs his hands. One tightly, one not so tightly so he doesn’t wince.

“You know, I think deep down, after our first civil conversation, I knew it was you. Something was different between you and me after that night. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but now that I look back, there were signs. I’m glad.” She brings the bandaged hand to her mouth and kisses it.

“You don’t need any more proof that I’m not an 80s chick with big hair and a lit degree?”

Sansa giggles. “Can you guess who said that?” Jon looks over to where Margaery and Robb are sitting. “She thought for sure you had a Cyrano De Bergerac doing your writing for you.”

Jon laughs out loud. “Nope, it all came from my crazy brain. With a little inspiration of course.”

Sansa has the grace to blush a little.

“Well, I guess Joffrey didn’t ruin the whole evening,” Jon says ruefully. “I can’t believe he’s the one who treated you so badly. He looks like someone could knock him over with a feather.”

“Well you did just that, although not exactly with a feather,” jests Sansa. “That’s quite a right fist you’ve got there.”

Jon brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it. “When he hit you, I just saw red. I’m not even sure I could tell you exactly how I ended up on top of him. All I could think of was ‘he just fucking hit a woman in public.’ “

“And here I thought, hey this guy doesn’t even like me and he stood up for me. Now I know you were just marking your territory.” She winks at him. “Totally kidding,” she says when she sees his horrified look.

“So…do you want to continue attempt #2 somewhere else? Like…”

“The Eyrie,” they say simultaneously.

“I’ll grab our coats. What do you want to do with that?” He gestures towards the letter still on the table.

“Oh wait, I brought all my stuff up front so I could bug out right away. You know, to meet my not-so-anonymous penpal.” She picks up the letter and folds it up neatly. “I’ll put it in my purse and take it home to put with the others. I kept them all.” She laughs nervously.

“I have yours, too.” He winks at her as he leaves the café.

**

Margaery runs up to her and gives her a huge hug.

“Oh my God, I cannot believe it was Jon all along!” She looks at Sansa for verification and then hugs her again.

“Yeah, Margaery, where’s my fifty bucks?” Sam also hugs Sansa.

“I can’t believe you knew this whole time and never said a word!” Sansa punches him in the shoulder after which Sam says, “If Jon knew you could hit like that he should have let you hit Joffrey instead.” He smiles at her. “For the record, I didn’t know until the moment he came back to the bar. But I had my suspicions even before. Two people who express how much of a pain in the ass the other person is are just a couple of fights away from making out in the back lot. Hence the bet with yours truly over there.”

“Sam Tarly! I can’t believe you said that!” Gilly rolls up a magazine and swats him playfully with it.

“Hey! I can’t help it if it’s true.”

By now, Jon has come back with his suit coat, tie and overcoat on. Everybody fawns over him.

“Wow, you clean up nice, buddy!” That was Sam.

“A coat and tie? She must be special,” Margaery winks at him.

“Is that cologne I smell?” Gilly sniffs the air around him.

“Guys, guys, let the poor man alone. You can see he’s nervous as hell.” Robb reaches in and grabs Jon by the arm and presents him to Sansa. “If they’re shocked by this, what do you wear to work on a regular day anyway? A sweatshirt and ripped jeans?”

Before Jon can answer, Sansa grabs him by the arm. “He can wear whatever he wants to.” Then she turns and looks at him. “But I really like him this way.” She kisses him lightly on the lips. He puts his arm around her and when she pulls back to look at him, he says, “That’s my girl.”

Everyone claps and whistles. Before they can leave, though, Robb and Margaery come over to them together with the American Girl doll. Margaery hands the doll to Sansa.

“What’s this? He won it fair and square. He’s not an employee or a family member, not yet anyways…” Sansa teasingly looks at Robb who has the grace to blush.

“We decided we want to donate the doll to the toy drive.” Margaery continues, “I know I never had a doll and I am so lucky to have someone who would think doing something like that for me, but I think there is a little girl out there who would be so incredibly surprised to receive this for Christmas.” Robb nods his agreement.

Sansa hugs both of them tightly. “You guys, you are too much! Margaery, I want you to come with me, though, when we give it away. So you can see the look on the little girl’s face.”

“Deal. Now, get out of here, you two, before Sam decides you need to stay and close with us.” Margaery starts shooing them towards the door.

“I would never do that, Margaery. I will however make Robb stay and close with us, though,” Sam says from the Newsstand.

“Oh, he has no choice, now. He’s in it for the long haul.”

“By the way, Robb, what did you do with all those bestsellers you bought when Margaery wasn’t working?” Gilly thinks that Margaery doesn’t know about that.

“Why, he reads to me, of course! What else would he do?” Margaery tries to look shocked by the question.

“Not touching that one with a 10-foot pole.” Jon looks at Sansa. “Ready?”

“Ready.” They link arms again and leave.

**

Once they’re outside, they notice that it has started snowing. As they get to Jon’s car, he stops and pulls something out of his pocket.

“I might as well give these to you now. I was going to save them for our actual meeting but after everything that’s happened I think this will give you further proof. He gives Sansa a long thin envelope.

“What’s this? You don’t have to prove anything else.” She opens the envelope and looks at what’s inside. There are two tickets to _La Boheme. _She looks up and she tries to keep the tears from overflowing, again.

“Will you go with me?”

“There’s no one else I would rather go with. And be with." She brushes aside the tears.

I feel like we’re standing outside the tavern in the 3rd act. Except we’re not fighting like Mimi and Rudolfo. Not anymore.” Jon puts his arms around her, looks in her eyes and kisses her. First lightly, then it deepens.

When they break apart, Jon says to her, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you were sick and tried to put a sandal on over your sock.”

He kisses her again and she kisses him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked it! Like I said, it kind of wrote itself. I am actually a little sad that it's over.
> 
> Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this. Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> I'm not sure if I will ever get that inspired again, but if anyone wants to send me a prompt, I'd willing to try.
> 
> Also, if any of you writers ever need a proofreader, let me know. I'd love to help anyone out. I've freelanced edited for years.


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